Make me whole again
by dianaclaudia
Summary: The Mark of Cain is gone, Dean is saved and Melody is back, but the four hunters are far from being safe. With Dean struggling between his love for Emma and an insatiable attraction for Amara, and with Mel seeking both answers and revenge for what she went through in Hell, it turns out salvation doesn't always mean happy ending. (Part 2 of My Better Half, doppelganger female OC's)
1. Prologue: Residues of Salvation

**PROLOGUE – Residues of Salvation**

He was happy.

Which was why he was so suspicious about it.

Happiness, or anything that even remotely looked like it, was a tricky, slippery son of a bitch. The Winchester didn't do 'happy'.

Though he was.

Dean was no longer a demon. The woman he loved had brought him back. His brother had been given back the woman he loved and had been taken away from him. Things were quiet; and too good to be true. And when things seem too good to be true, they usually are. He knew this much.

But he was happy, he thought as grey smoke surrounded him. Things were as good as they could get, considering the life they were leading, he thought as the smoke flooded his lungs and choked him from inside. Emma was there to stay, he thought as the smoke pulled him even further away from her.

He knew he was dreaming. It was always the same dream. He was in an open fielding and his eyes were searching for someone, his arms reaching for a body that wasn't there. But there was no one in the thick, ashen fog. Smoke. Always smoke. Always alone in the grey. Always waking up drenched in cold sweat and reaching for the other side of the bed, seeking the reassurance of Emma's small silhouette lying next to him.

But for now, he couldn't tell the different.

Always smoke.

Always alone in the grey.

Always darkness.

Dean Winchester was saved. But there's only so much salvation can do. Salvation doesn't grant you sanity. And sometimes, salvation doesn't always mean happy ending.

 _ **PLEASE READ!**_

 **Okay, guys, I just wanted to set things straight from the very beginning. This story is** _ **my**_ **take on how things are going in season 11 of the show. So, basically, whatever Emma's grace did in My Better Half, it's the equivalent of Rowena's spell. She did destroy the Mark with her light, but that just broke the seal and set the Darkness free. Whatever happens next, it goes from there. I will keep clearing things up as we go. Anything else ya feel confused about, feel free to ask in a review?**

 **Who else is excited about this?**

 **ME,ME,ME,MEMEMEMEM**

 **Okay, I'm calm. So. What'd ya think?**

 **Lots of love, y'all!**

 **xoxo**


	2. I had a dream about a burning house

**CHAPTER 1 – I HAD A DREAM ABOUT A BURNING HOUSE**

 **~ : Jackson Perkins – Salvation (cover)~**

The bunker smelled like spring and happiness and love, and Melody hated every second of it. It made her gag.

She loved Sam, she did. And she loved seeing her sister so happy and serene. She loved fully appreciating being alive. She loved having her best friend back and sane.

But it was disgusting.

Things were quiet and they were happy. Sam pampered her and she lived for that little smile blooming on his face every morning when she woke up by his side, or for those looks he gave her when he paused his research just to watch her. Emma beamed around Dean like a beacon. And maybe Dean would've shared Mel's pain, hadn't he been so wrapped up in his own bubble of guilt for , you know, slightly having killed her.

So Melody suffered through every second of it.

Okay, maybe she was being a little ungrateful and not entirely fair. Things were finally settling down for the four of them, and they'd been long overdue a break, a chance to breathe. Other than your casual salt-and-burns, demon possessions, werewolves, vampire nests, no immediate threats seemed to jeopardize their well-being.

But dammit, Melody itched for some action. She needed to get her blood boiling again, she longed for that adrenaline rush that sent her head spinning, she ached to jump back in the field and kick some ass. And good God, if she ever heard the words 'double date', she was so fucking outta here. She'd take Samantha – yes, she had named the bike Samantha, she had been feeling sentimental at the moment – and she'd drive it to the nearest bar. Not that last time that had happened had gone particularly well.

So in the meantime, she was hiding. Yes, she knew she was being childish. No, she didn't give a rat's ass.

When Sam walked into the garage, he found her working on her motorcycle; hair pulled back, casual clothes and oily skin. The sight knocked him dead every single time. She was so connected to her bike, to her tools, her surroundings became abstract, and she had that cute crease between her brows as she chewed her bottom lip, concentration evident on her features. It brought back memories, playing on a loop in his head with _Pour some sugar on me_ as a soundtrack.

And she was his. He'd been granted this much.

He'd believed for so long that he was cursed. That everyone who dared love him was doomed to end up dead. And then he'd met her. And she turned his world upside down and spelled him out loud and she was so fearless and fear-worthy and so capable to defend herself. And then she was taken away from him, too, and it nearly broke him.

His breath caught in his throat at the memory, and Mel flinched at the sound, not having heard him come in. She turned around and narrowed her eyes.

"Sam. What are you doing here?"

But she came back to him. This time, they got a second chance. This time, he wasn't letting her go.

"Charlie was missing you," Sam explained, and from behind him, a giant dog with reddish brown fur and goofy ears and a long tail that never stopped wiggling started barking and ran towards Melody.

Mel laughed and kneeled down to pet him.

"Oh, you silly beast," she scratched that spot behind his ear that he liked. "You're just a ginormous ball of fur who likes to think he's a puppy. But you _are_ just a puppy, aren't you?"

Sam chuckled at the exchange between them. He loved dogs, and it had been his idea to get Charlie. And for some reason, Dean had agreed, too. Maybe he, like everyone else, felt the rush of being free for a change. Plus, he'd thrown the argument of, 'Hey, I was a dog once", that no one could argue with. And in exchange for accepting a dog in the bunker, he got to name the dog, and he named him after a dear friend of his that had been taken away from him. And because of his ginger fur and 'love for the ladies' as Dean liked to put it, Sam had to admit that Charlie was the perfect name. And he was crazy about him, but for some reason he couldn't explain, the bastard was crazy about Melody. When she was in the room, Charlie snuggled at her feet as if he was made of clay, obedient to her will.

And he couldn't blame the poor animal, Sam thought. The girl had a way of looking you in the eye and grinning devilishly at you that often bent his will and had him helpless in her hands. She had that thing going on for her.

"I was also scared for his safety," Sam added, already feeling like a third wheel between Mel and Charlie. "I think one of these days, Emma's hugs are gonna suffocate the poor thing."

Mel chuckled. That was true. If Sam loved dogs, to say Emma, as his doppelganger, shared his enthusiasm, would've been an understatement.

Melody clicked her tongue and finally stood up, with Charlie jumping up and down around her, and she went to stand in front of Sam, putting her hands on her hips.

"But that ain't the only reason why you came down here, is it?" she teased him, eyes narrowed. "Come on, big guy, spit it out."

Sam rolled his eyes, scratching the back of his neck. "Fine. So maybe I missed you, too. Big deal. Rub it in my face, will you?"

He glared playfully, and Mel laughed, putting her arms around his neck. And Sam could practically hear the sound his will made when she bent it. Yeah, that did the trick. But when she leaned in and kissed him, everything else was forgotten. Even Charlie sat quietly in a corner.

Okay, so maybe Mel was being a hypocrite. Spring and happiness and love weren't her cup of tea, but she enjoyed every damn minute of it, and the feeling rushed back to her when they broke the kiss, her lips swollen, the taste of Sam still lingering on her tongue, his eyes shining with excitement.

"Let's go check on Dean and Emma," Sam suggested, planting a kiss on Mel's temple.

Oh yeah, Mel thought, smiling from ear to ear. Hypocrisy at its best. She was a happy motherfucker.

"You're gonna make me watch _August Rush_ again, aren't cha?" Dean rolled his eyes at the green-eyed beauty in plaid in front of him, and Emma narrowed hers.

"Don't act like you don't enjoy it," she scolded him. "I'm pretty sure you were tearing up last time. And I heard you hum to _Moon Dance_ just the other day."

Dean scratched the back of his head, acting innocent.

"Shut up," he mumbled under his breath. "It brings back memories."

Emma smiled widely. Indeed. Every time she heard the song, all she had to do was close her eyes and she was back to where it all started. Back to black dress, and dancing, and swimming in that leather jacket, and beer and almost kisses.

' _S a bit chilly, ain't it?_

 _I'm the guy who's asking you to dance._

 _We'll improvise._

It sent Emma's head spinning every time she remembered it. Those hands had killed people. Monsters. Those hands had cut off heads and drawn pentagrams and tortured and cut into flesh and could shoot guns with the precision of a Swiss watch. And yet, those hands had touched her so very gently, those hands had drawn small circles on her inner back, those hands had circled her waist that night as if she were made of porcelain. And those arms still held her in her sleep every night.

"You're thinking about it, aren't cha?" Dean winked at her, and Emma blushed despite herself.

"All the time," she admitted. "I'm the one who turned Dean into a drooling mess with the power of a black dress. You understand why I take such pride in it."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and fidgeted for a few moments, going into full defensive mode.

"I wasn't—" he tried, and Emma watched him amused, which troubled him even more. "I was just… I mean… I _wasn't_ drooling. _Shut up."_

Emma chuckled.

"You so were," they heard Sam's voice behind them, and Dean glared, but it didn't seem to affect Sam too much. "Come on, Dean. I've never seen your jaw drop so fast on the floor. _Ever._ And you paced around the whole evening while she was gone. Even after Cas told you she was on her way back."

Emma raised her eyebrows at him, and Mel laughed whole-heartedly, moving across the room to bump Dean's shoulder. Emma saw his body tense just a little at Mel's closeness.

"I'm gonna make a bold assumption and say he just wanted to see that black dress again," Melody teased, and Sam nodded in response.

Dean shot them a nervous smile, and Emma frowned at the sudden change in his mood. Could he still be feeling guilty? It had been weeks since the Mark was gone and Mel was back. Mel had no hard feelings about it. In fact, Emma thought she's been the coolest with the fact that Dean had actually killed her, and she'd gotten over it way quicker than Emma and Sam had. And yet, Emma could tell he was still holding back, he was still unsure as to how to act around her, and she could also tell that it bothered Melody. Mel was happy to be back, and happier to have his best friend back. Except he wasn't back, not really. There was still a wall built on raw guilt between them, but Emma promised herself she'd learn to knock it down brick by brick. After all, she was an expert on Dean's walls. She'd walked into his soul with boots on and taught him that souls weren't fortresses, but glorious castles.

Mel seemed to notice Dean's uneasiness, because she put some distance between them and the smile that followed weren't as serene as the previous cheerful one.

"So," she broke the silence. "What are you guys up to?"

Dean shot her a look.

"Make a bold assumption, Rapunzel," he mocked, and Mel smirked at the using of her old nickname.

"If it involves _August Rush, again_ " she wrinkled her nose amused. "Then I feel terribly sorry for you, pretty eyes."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Shut up. We all know that, deep down, Dean Winchester is just a wuss."

Charlie barked and wiggled his tail as if in agreement, and all of them laughed, except Dean.

"Traitor," he muttered under his breath. "I'm never letting you lick my face again."

Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Ugh, you're so gross," he told his brother, then took Mel's hand. "Come on, that's our cue. Night, guys. Emma, you might wanna play that movie twice, just to make sure Dean starts remembering the lines."

Emma chuckled lightly and Dean sent flying a storm of very unorthodox names for his brother and he named exactly all the places in which Sam could stick his suggestions.

As soon as Mel and Sam were gone, though, Emma turned to Dean, a concerned look on her face as she bit her lower lip.

"What?" Dean frowned back. "What'd I do? Do I have something on my face?"

Emma sighed, sitting on a chair in front of Dean and motioning for Dean to do the same, while absent-mindedly burying her hand in Charlie's fur and they heard the dog hum in content.

"Dean," she started cautiously. "Are you okay?"

Dean sat in front of her and shrugged, his eyebrows raised in confusion as to where that had come from.

"Peachy," he responded. "Why wouldn't I be?" Emma glared, and he raised his hands in front of him defensively. "Okay, I can see why you'd think that, but I'm tellin' ya, short stuff, I'm good. Really."

Emma pursed her lips and cupped his cheek, feeling his scruff against her palm. He was a little overdue for a shaving, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him that. She did enjoy his beard.

"I know you're not, Dean," she spoke softly, her voice, even if barely above a whisper, went straight behind Dean's every wall and those green eyes stared into his soul. It was as if she knew every shortcut that would get her there.

"But I am," he argued, and for a brief second, he stopped to wonder if that had actually become true over the weeks.

The blood thirst was gone, and thanks to that, he no longer felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was exhilarating, to be able to look at the world without that tinge of red at the edge of his vision. But the weight of the anger and the murderous instincts was soon replaced by the weight of guilt. Sure, maybe he hadn't been himself back then, but he could still feel Melody's flesh ripped apart by the blade he held, he could still feel the warmth of her blood on his hand. He could still remember Emma's voice in the back of his mind, playing in a loop like a mantra he didn't want, yet needed to hear. He remembered the smoke. And maybe, yeah, maybe he was having a hard time moving past that.

"I'm good," he repeated, more to himself, than to Emma.

"Then act like it," she spoke fiercely, her hand finding his and squeezing in reassurance. "It's over, Dean. I know it's been hard for you, and I can see those memories are still taking their toll on you. But it's all over. No one is holding anything that you've done while under the influence of the Mark against you. We love you. Melody loves you, and she misses her best friend. You're safe, Dean. You gotta start trusting me on this one."

Her other hand was still on his cheek, and he leaned into her touch. Sometimes, he felt as if he would've believed her every word. He thought about how she'd once told him to find an anchor, and he thought about how ironic it was that she'd ended up to be just that for him.

"Okay," he whispered into her palm, and Emma smiled before leaning in for a kiss. And under her lips, Dean came undone every time.

"Now," Emma chuckled against his lips when they broke the kiss. "If you'd follow me, Winchester, I think I still have that black dress you've grown so fond of around my closet."

Dean grinned like a little kid. "I was hoping you'd say that."

They went back to her room – their room, for a while now – and the door closed behind them. And out of all the things that had been granted to them for these past weeks, the two of them being on the same side of that door was the one Dean was the most grateful for.

 **~ K: Cam – Burning house~**

Two piercing screams rang through the bunker that night.

Melody woke up drenched in sweat, Sam's arms around her. And it took him longer than usual to convince her she was alive and safe as she kept yelling, ' _You're not real'._

 _You're not real._

 _You're not real._

But he was. And she was, too. Real. They were real. And alive. And together.

But the flames never left. The flames were always there. And tonight, she felt them more than ever. Because tonight, she realized that while she was real, and alive, and together with Sam, a part of her was still trapped in Hell. And she wouldn't get to sleep soundlessly unless she retrieved it.

But as Sam rocked Melody back and forth and she tried to drift back to sleep, the second scream came, louder, sharper, more heart-wrenching.

For Dean, it started the same. Smoke. So much smoke. Choking him, drowning him, filling his lungs and stinging at the corners of his eyes. He was still reaching for a silhouette, and as his thoughts started catching shape – something that had never happened until now –, it occurred to him he might have been searching for Emma.

Who else? Even his subconscious longed for that anchor to provide balance.

He tripped and wandered blindly, breathing in that toxic smoke. Until he finally caught sight of that feminine slim silhouette. Then a black dress. Perhaps this dream was going to better places than he'd expected. His lips wanted to curve into a smile, but his brain knew better than that. Something wasn't right.

He got closer.

His heart started pounding wildly against his rib cage.

And then even closer.

The figure was a little taller than Emma, so it couldn't have been her.

And then closer.

But then who was it?

As he got closer to her, the smoke dissipated, making his vision clearer.

And then he was standing right in front of her.

And she was drop-dead gorgeous. Red hair fell in waves across her shoulders, she was barefoot and that black dress contrasted deeply against her smooth, silky, light skin. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

His eyes fell on her chest, and at the little symbol over her left collar bone, his breath caught in his throat.

It was the Mark of Cain.

"Dean," she spoke, her voice clear in his head, scorching every corner of his mind. "Come to me."

Dean woke up with a start, to three faces looming worried over him. His throat itched, so he figured he'd been screaming for a while until they managed to wake him up.

"Dean," Emma touched his shoulder, and he shuddered as he remembered.

The dream was all so clear in his mind, fresh and vivid to the very last detail.

The Mark of Cain.

 _Dean._

 _Come to me._

"Guys," he spoke in a raspy voice. "We have a problem."

 **Oh.**

 **My.**

 **God.**

 **You guys.**

 **The feedback I got for starting this sequel has been mind-blowing, so, here. First chapter. Oh yeah, baby. It's on.**

 **Also, don't think I've forgotten about the requests I got post-My Better Half. I haven't. I've just postponed them. For now, let's just get CRAZY ABOUT THIS SEQUEL. Yes. I'm freaking author and I'M the one writing this shit. Sue me.**

 **Anyway, love y'all so fucking much!**

 **xoxo**

 **P.S. Crap, I almost forgot. Instead of just posting the playlist at the end of the story, I've decided to give you stuff to listen to as you read. Hope you like the concept!**


	3. No closer to closure

**CHAPTER 2 – NO CLOSER TO CLOSURE**

 **~ K: Fleurie – Soldier~**

Four heads were lowered over a book in the bunker's library, examining the same picture that had been haunting them for months now. It was the same upside down 'L' painted in ancient font, tattooed in flesh.

It was supposed to be over. It had been over. Except for them, it never was. Never over. Always doomed to clean up some severely fucked up mess.

"So basically," Mel was the one to break the silence, "You're practically having kinky dreams about the Mark."

Three pairs of eyes glared at her. She shrugged, but there was no amusement in her voice, in her stance or in her gestures. Sam bit back a remark. She wasn't okay, either. She wanted to be, but she wasn't. Her soul was still hell-tainted, and that was something you could never escape; Dean was living proof of that. You're doomed to be forever haunted. But Sam let her be. He didn't want to push her before she could figure things out on her own terms, and they had to focus on the issue at hand for now.

"But, Dean, I thought the Mark was gone," Sam commented, rubbing his face. "Wasn't Emma's grace supposed to have snuffed it out?"

Emma sighed, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Not necessarily," she mumbled, her shoulders dropping. "I felt the grace obliterate the Mark. But _only_ the Mark."

Mel and the Winchesters fell silent, considering Emma's words. Eventually, Dean leaned forward on his elbows.

"What are you saying?"

"Look," Emma started. "We've dealt with witches and spells, right? And we know that symbols aren't _just_ symbols without something to symbolize." She ignored Mel muttering ' _Thank you, Captain Obvious'_ under her breath and continued. "Maybe the Mark was a symbol itself, for some sort of spell. Just, you know, at a larger scale."

Sam exhaled loudly. "A biblical scale, you mean."

The words hung in the air, suspended in the weight of a breath they were all holding. They were scared to make assumptions, or to make blind guesses. The Mark had been bad. Yeah, biblical kind of bad. But the idea of the Mark nursing some sort of background story they had nothing on, well, that idea was just purely terrifying.

"Aren't we getting ahead of ourselves just a little bit?" Mel dared to wonder. "It was a dream. For all we know, it could've been a dirty fantasy of yours, or some sort of PTSD, or the residues of the influence the Mark had on you."

Dean and Sam exchanged a look, pondering the possibility, while Emma simply stared at her sister with eyebrows raised.

"What?" Melody frowned at her older sibling.

Emma shook her head slightly. "I love it when you talk medical to me. Makes me proud."

Mel rolled her eyes and they turned to Dean, who was now scratching the back of his head.

"I don't know, man," he muttered. "It didn't feel like a dream. More like a vision. Her words, asking me to come to her, are still loud and clear in my head. I remember the smell, the colors, the smoke suffocating me. It felt real."

The silence took back its place in the room as the Mark of Cain stared at them from across the pages, teasing them for their helplessness. The frustration grew heavy and glances were exchanged, but no one had solutions or comforting words to offer. The threat still loomed surely above their heads.

"Let's rewind," Dean ended up suggesting, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. "So whoever or whatever that was, she or it has something to do with the Mark. Turns out that crap ain't that easy to get rid of."

Emma nodded. "I'm gonna call up Cas, see if he knows something. Though as human, I doubt he can be of much help."

She was gonna turn on her heels and leave, when a random thought popped into her head. She smirked. It concerned her how much she enjoyed this idea.

"Or," she spoke, making Emma stop and turn around, and Mel couldn't stop that devilish grin from spreading all across her face. "There might be another way. You said this whole deal happens at a biblical scale, right?"

Sam shrugged, as if she was just stating the obvious, and Mel pulled out her phone and spoke as she dialed a number. "Well, as it turns out, I happened to have come across to some free-lancer angels, _biblical_ kind of angels, who might lend a hand."

She put the phone to her ear and saw Sam's eyes widen in shock when he realized what she was doing and that it was too late to stop her.

The phone rang twice before he picked up.

"Blondie. The Gods have blessed me. What have I done to earn the honor?"

Mel rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

"Jace, you cocky bastard. I need you to make yourself useful."

She could hear his raspy voice as he chuckled. "Hope it's as dirty as it sounds. For you, anytime."

 **~ K: Daughtry – Broken arrows~**

" _Jace,_ Melody? Really?"

Melody rolled her eyes for the hundredth time. She was sitting in their bedroom, and Sam was angrily pacing back and forth, lecturing her on the recklessness of putting her trust in an angel with shady intentions. _Again._

"Seriously, Sam, what's the big deal? It's a solution at hand and that's exactly what we need right now. We don't know what we're dealing with and we gotta act fast."

Sam threw his hands in the air, exasperation clear on his features.

"No, Melody. No, he's not a _solution at hand._ After all that you and Emma have been through, after all that _we've_ been through not long ago, do you really think it's wise to trust angels? To trust one of those who happen to be in the bad guys' camp?"

Mel huffed. "Should I remind you, big guy, that this member of the bad guys' camp happened to save our asses not long ago? Against his own kind? For us, Sam. Humans. He's a rebel; with a cause. And so is Cas, but I don't hear about how that would make him a bad guy."

"A rebel with a cause?" Sam raised his voice. "Melody, are you hearing yourself? Why would you make excuses for him? His only cause is _you._ "

Melody shrugged, clearly missing his point. "All for the best," she chirped. "So he wants to help me. Oh, the audacity on that guy."

Sam fumed, clenching his jaw against a remark he knew he'd end up regretting. He wasn't even sure what he was so fervent about. While Emma and Dean hadn't been exactly thrilled with the idea of Jace helping out, they had agreed that it was a necessary evil. Of course, Melody had argued that calling Mr. Jace-savior-of-the-day-Adriel evil was a huge stretch. And that had gotten his blood boiling. And as he looked at Mel now with flames scorching and blurring his vision, he knew that she could tell what _exactly_ got his blood boiling.

"Unless that's the problem," Melody spoke slowly, articulating every word. "That he wants to help _me_."

Sam huffed, but couldn't come up with a solid argument. Melody stood up and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Oh my God, Sam," she exclaimed in a hushed tone that was scarier than if she had screamed. "Is this what this is all about? Jace's infatuation with me? You really think this is the time to act jealous?"

"No, Melody," he snapped at her, and he saw her flinch a little. "It's not about Jace's infatuation with you. It's about you turning to him in the first place. About how I didn't have a say in that decision. Because you don't _talk_ to me."

Melody rubbed her temples. "Come on, Sam. Now it's about me not walking you through the decisions I make? What am I, 7? Do I need to ask for your permission?"

Sam took a deep breath and tried to calm down before speaking again, lower this time, trying hard not to let this conversation escalate into an ugly fight. Although it was pretty much headed that way anyway.

"No," he whispered. "That, either. I'm not trying to act like a jealous teenage boyfriend, Melody. I am trying to get you to talk to me."

"Oh, come on, Sam—"

"What about the nightmares, then?"

The breath caught in her throat, and Sam knew he'd been right and that he'd hit a soft spot. She might have been trying to pass it off as no big deal, but it was a big deal, and it was taking its toll on her. She blinked rapidly and cleared her voice before speaking again.

"This is really the worst timing you could have chosen to talk about this. It has nothing to do—"

"It has everything to do with it, Melody," Sam snapped again. "I've been trying to give you space, because I know how impossible it is to move on from that, from what you've been through. I've been patient, Mel, but I can't keep watching you go through that and pretend like nothing's going on while you're picking up pieces of yourself from the floor every night when you wake up screaming. And I'm there for you every minute of it, and still, you never let me in on it. You never let me help you."

She didn't trust her voice enough to speak, so they stood in front of each other for solid minutes, waiting for the air to clear up, for muscles to ease up, for jaws to unclench, for hearts to slow down. Eventually, Sam moved and cupped her cheeks in his big, calloused hands, and even if she was pissed at him like never before, Mel's body knew his touch like a favorite song you can't help but dance to, so she leaned into it.

"Talk to me, Mel," he pleaded, and she came apart piece by piece to the rhythm and frequency of the vibrations of his chest against hers.

She shook her head and took in a shaky breath.

"I can't," she admitted. "I can't talk, Sam. I can't acknowledge what's going on and I can't move on from it. And I sure as hell can't let you walk me through it."

"Mel—" he tried, but she cut him off.

"No. You wanted me to talk, then listen. Things don't make sense, Sam. I don't understand why it had to be me, why it had to be hell, I need answers. I need closure. I need to understand. And I need to figure out a way to get that by myself."

Her whole body was shaking, and Sam felt every ounce of self-control break along with her. So he dropped it once again. He'd be whatever she needed him to be. And if she needed him to give her space and time and to glue her pieces back together every night he'd do just that.

"Okay," he whispered, placing a soft kiss on her temple. That tender gesture was sort of their signature. It was the one choreography that best featured every little feeling they harbored.

He felt Mel's body tense, then relax in his arms. He didn't know for how much time they stood there, wrapped in embrace, when Melody finally broke the silence, her voice muffled as she spoke in his chest.

"Does that mean you're not mad about Jace anymore?"

"Oh, I'm still mad," Sam tried to hide a smile. "Don't expect me to go easy on him."

Mel raised her eyes to meet his gaze and smiled up at him.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

 **~ K: Halsey – Haunting~**

" _Do you wanna talk about it?"_

That's what she'd said. That's what Emma had asked. And she had the purest intentions. He didn't deserve her. She was a breath of fresh air, and he was poisoning smoke.

So he forced himself to smile and keep telling her he was good, even if now, he knew for a fact that he wasn't.

" _Was there anything else to that dream that's bugging you?"_

Yes.

" _Nah. I'm good."_

But he wasn't. And there was.

 _Dean._

There was that voice.

 _Dean._

And the curve of those lips as his name rolled off the tip of her tongue.

 _Dean._

In his waking hours, he was disgusted with it. With her. With himself.

 _Dean._

In his waking hours, he acknowledged the threat. His hunter's instincts kicked in. In his waking hours, he looked at Emma and he remembered. He remembered that he loved her, he remembered that she'd saved him, he remembered that she anchored him, he remembered that by her side, he was, indeed, good.

 _Come to me._

But in his dream, he'd wanted to succumb to that darkness, he wanted the smoke to drown him and the woman with the Mark. He longed for it.

 _Come to me._

In his dream, he'd wanted to go to her.

 **Yeah. Yeah, that's how excited I am. Yeah, things are getting pretty dark for our guys. Yeah, I love you guys with the power of a thousand hurricanes.**

 **Kay, lemme know what ya think!**

 **Love y'all!**

 **xoxo**


	4. This night aint for the faint of heart

**CHAPTER 3 – THIS NIGHT AIN'T FOR THE FAINT OF THE HEART**

 **~ K: Faith Marie – Antidote~**

She was scared to go to sleep. This always happened to her, and she always had trouble going to sleep post-nightmares. But tonight, it was somehow worse, as if to compensate for an equally bad dream. The surface of her skin ached and her eyeballs burned with the weight of a flame that no longer burned, but the ashes were toxic enough to suffocate her.

She knew her symptoms well enough. And she wasn't that eager to go back to sleep and relive everything she'd been through.

She sighed and slowly unclasped Sam's hand from around her waist, careful not to wake him up, considering how light of a sleeper he was. She had to go for a walk or something, get rid of a few demons. Yes, the irony of that. She'd come back from hell covered in demons no blade could rid her of.

She threw a jacket over her shoulder and made her way out of the room and, after pacing for several minutes from room to room, out of the bunker as well.

The cold night air was exhilarating. She breathed in deeply and let it fill her lungs and dry her airways. She shut her eyes and tried to visualize those little bits of herself being glued together, but every time her eyelids closed, she saw it. The flames. The blood. Sam's face over hers telling her he'd never feel anything but utter disgust towards her. Emma's grin as she whipped her. Her parents being murdered over and over again. Her old high school friends, slaughtered. The bunker, swallowed by flames with everyone she loved inside. And of these all, the only one that was true. Dean driving a blade through her chest. As much as she loved Dean and as quick as she'd forgiven him, this was the one that stuck with her. Probably because they'd made her relive it so many times down there. She'd memorized every line on his face, the shape of his wicked, neutral smile, the choreography of the smoke filling his eyes. She even knew the sound she'd made as she hit the floor, counting seconds until she'd no longer be alive. Counting words she'd said, words she'd never say, wasted never spoken ' _I love you'_ s. Out of every kind of torture, that one had made sure to shred her heart to pieces. And the band aids weren't holding any longer.

"Hey."

Melody flinched and she turned around.

And there he was, handsome as ever, frowning as ever, his hands ever longing to hold her instinctively. And her body instinctively longed for his body heat, longed to be held by him. Usually. But at times like this, she was the one who held herself together. She had her arms crossed across her chest, gripping her sides tightly, shoulders tense. Sam didn't dare to come closer. He knew she needed to ground herself for now.

"Sam," she spoke, then cleared her voice when she realized how broken she sounded. "What are you doing here?"

Sam smiled sadly. "This does seem to be the question of the week."

Indeed it was. He snuck around her often enough, though she knew sneaking around her was the last of his intentions. He just happened to be taking her by surprise more often than not. And that didn't come as a shock. She spent a lot of time by herself these days, trying to teach herself some sort of control, and Sam spent that same amount of time worrying for her. He sought her out. But she had somehow misplaced herself.

"Couldn't sleep," she mumbled, averting her gaze.

This wasn't the first conversation of this sort that they had. And with time, Sam had grown to know when she was keeping things to herself. She thought avoiding eye contact would keep him from seeing through her filters. Eventually, she'd gotten to know that there was no filter at all. Just an open book, and however locks she put it under, Sam had the key to each and every one of them.

"Wanna talk about it?" he offered, and Mel let out a shaky breath.

"Not really."

"Mel, come on—"

"Sam," she hissed through her teeth, closing her eyes and breathing heavily. "Let's not do this again, please. Go back to sleep. I'll be with you in a minute. I just needed some air."

He seemed to consider her offer for a moment. Seemed. She knew he wasn't. He was just pondering whether to keep pushing her. And she slowly saw as the worry triumphed and he surrendered to his infuriating attempt to fix her. But there was no fixing this. There was just learning to live with it without letting it break you.

Eventually, Sam took a step forward, standing just in front of her.

"Remember our first kiss?"

Melody rolled her eyes at him. "It wasn't that long ago, you know."

Sam pursed his lips at her words, and she realized. Maybe it didn't seem like it. But she'd spent about 20 years in hell. When he saw her face fall in realization, Sam moved past it.

"Just hear me out, okay?" Sam placed his hands on her shoulders. "That night, I'd almost lost you in that stupid accident, remember?" When she nodded reluctantly, he continued. "And we were mad at each other. And we fought. And said some things. And it was raining and we were buried under ten feet of mixed signals, right? But then I caught your wrist and spun you around…"

He was leaning closer and closer with every word and despite herself, Melody felt herself give in to his touch and she learned that she wasn't growing any more immune to Sam. His presence still managed to knock out her senses and ignite some others that she'd never known were there.

And then, with the weight of his words still lingering in the air between them, instead of finishing his sentence, Sam finished his path towards her lips and crashed their mouths together, just as he'd done that night. Sure, it wasn't raining, and it lacked that feeling of utter explosion as their lips made contact, as every ounce of tension for not having acted on how they felt about each other was set free. But that's how first kisses work. This time, however, Sam kissed away once again her insecurities, kissed her back to life, kissed her up to the height of the love he felt for her. And he spelled it out with his lips on hers.

But then he broke the kiss, and so he broke the spell.

Melody realized she was losing grip. Sam had grounded her for so long. He still did. But she kept needing him closer, and closer, and then even closer, and he wasn't able to keep the demons our anymore. Not when said demons were already crawling their way deep within her, out of Sam's reach.

But when she raised her gaze, Sam was smiling down at her. She remembered he was trying to make a point. How could she tell him it wasn't enough?

"We found each other, Mel," he whispered against her lips. "I found you, and then you somehow found your way back to me. And I still mean what I said that first night. All this talking never does any good. I'd much rather be here and show you, step by step, kiss by kiss, that you're here, too. With me."

She wanted to smile. She wanted to reassure him. She wanted to keep playing her part and tell him she just needed time, but that she'd eventually be okay. But she didn't have it in her to keep lying to him. She'd done that ever since she'd come back. She wanted so badly to believe she was truly fine. Apart from lying to Sam, she'd lied to herself as well.

So she didn't smile. She didn't reassure him. She didn't lie. Instead, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away a little, moving away from his grasp. She tried to ignore the tightness in her chest as she saw his face fall.

"Except I'm not," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Here, I mean. I am, but not really."

"Mel—" he tried, and he opened and closed his mouth, trying to find something to say, a way to understand. He ended up running his hands through his hair and rubbing his face. "I don't get it. Just tell me. Tell me how to fix this. I want to fix this. I want you to be okay."

Melody threw her hands in the air, and she felt it snapping. She didn't know what, couldn't quite put her finger on it. But it was as if she felt a switch flip somewhere inside her and out of a sudden, every drop of anger that had been boiling beneath the surface of her skin came flowing right out of her and she couldn't keep it in anymore.

"Well, that's not gonna happen, is it now?" she raised her voice, and Sam's eyebrows shot up at her outburst. "I am not okay, and I'm not something to be fixed. Because I can't be fixed, Sam."

Sam shook his head slightly, a helpless look on his face.

"Mel—"

"Wanna know the truth, Sam?" she gripped two handfuls of her hair and breathing heavily. "This was not supposed to happen to me, and I'm still having a hard time working that one out. Dying was the easy part. But I went to _hell,_ Sam. And I did not have that one coming. Maybe I didn't go to church on Sundays, and maybe I wasn't the perfect Christian. But I am _not_ a bad person. I save lives, for crying out loud!"

She was pacing back and forth, unable to stop, unable to hold it in anymore, and while the guilt ate her up when she saw the look on Sam's face, she couldn't stop, could never stop, she had to keep going because she was afraid of what awaited her on the other side if she ever stopped.

She lowered her voice a little and finally mustered the guts to face him.

"I'm angry all the time, Sam. I need to find out who did this to me. I can't live like this."

Sam let his hands drop by his sides and let out a shaky breath. His brain was a mess. He remembered how this felt like, what Mel was going through. When there's no other choice than moving forward, you move forward no matter what. You find ways to cope. But when you're nothing but a spectator, you find yourself willing to go to whatever end just to make sure the person you loved stopped hurting. And he couldn't do that for Mel. She had loose ends. She had questions. And that was worse than hell itself. Waking up screaming from a nightmare with no one's name to curse at, with no one to blame.

"Mel—" he tried again, and this time, she didn't interrupt him. "What do you suggest we do?"

She breathed in, then let it all out, trying to regain her composure. Then she reached for Sam's hand and squeezed it. And to her relief, he squeezed back. It made her shattered heart warm, to know that he stood by her side regardless of how ugly it got. Throughout this whole curse, he was her blessing. And that's why she hoped he was going to understand what she was about to say next.

"I don't suggest _we_ do anything, Sam," she muttered, then forced herself to meet his eyes. "This is my battle. In and out, I gotta carry it out. I'm gonna get my closure, one way or another. I know it's a lot to ask, and I get it if you're not willing to give me that kind of space, but right now, all I need from you is to keep staying on the other side of my bed and being there for me while I sort things out. It's selfish, I know—"

"Okay."

And their eyes finally met. Like, really met, for the first time all night. They stood eye to eye and all was understood.

"Okay?" Mel questioned, as if she wasn't ready to believe that just yet. "You're okay with it?"

Sam sighed and tucked a strand of hair beneath her ear.

"Obviously not," he admitted. "But it's the best of all the bad. I can't lose you, Mel. Not again. So do what you gotta do. The other side of your bed is the only place I can be."

She smiled an actual smile, and before she could stop herself, she threw herself at him, burying her face in his toned chest. And almost as a reflex, his arms tightened around her slim silhouette. And she found the first answer in her path. Whatever closure she needed and whatever she needed to find out, his arms were the only place she could be.

 **~ K: Dorothy – Wicked ones~**

"I don't like this," Dean spoke with his chin in his chest.

Sam sighed. "Tell me about it."

The three of them, minus Melody, were gathered in the bunker's library, waiting for Mel to show up with Jace on her arm. They were all tense. Melody aside, none of them trusted this Jace guy.

Not Jace.

Adriel.

Because he was an angel. And by principle, they didn't trust angels. Sure, Cas had been some miraculous exception, but as a general rule, angels only followed their own interests and this Adriel dude followed that pattern. He'd wanted the rest of the angels off his ass and the Bennett sisters had been the key to accomplishing that. Their interests had just happened to overlap. That didn't mean he was trustworthy.

"Well, it ain't like we got other choice," Dean sighed. "Cas said he has no idea what this whole thing could mean and that he's gonna look into it. Though I don't think there's much he can dig up without his angel mojo. Em, what do you think?"

Emma bit her lip. Indeed, Cas hadn't been of much help. After giving up his angel grace and his immortality, he'd been laying low and out of the radar. And, needless to say, he now lacked the means to dig up this sort of information. Biblical threats had been kind of his specialty, but he wasn't a biblical being anymore. So while she wasn't particularly confident in this option either, she had to admit it was the only one they had.

"I don't know," she muttered, more to herself than to the brothers. "I mean, it _is_ the only way we can find out something. But what if we're dealing with this the wrong way? Whatever your dream was about, Dean, it was dark, and twisted. Jace is an angel, after all. Fallen, but celestial being nonetheless. You can't raise hell with a saint, can you?"

"Believe me, sugar, I ain't no saint."

Three heads turned towards the direction on the voice, just in time to see Jace coming down the stairs, followed by Melody. At his words, Emma's eyebrows raised, Mel groaned, while Dean and Sam looked on the verge of punching the guy in the face.

"Did he just—" Dean trailed off, throwing daggers with his eyes at Jace.

"Did you just call me—" Emma's reaction soon followed, and Mel smacked Jace on the back of his neck.

"Ow," Jace glared at her. "What was that for?"

Melody pointed her finger at him threateningly. "We talked about this, Jace. Behave."

Before he could come up with another one of his snarky comments, Charlie growled and started barking at him. This was odd. Charlie was one happy dog and friendly as can be, and yet he now looked on the verge of jumping for Jace's throat. Sam bit back a smirk. He patted Charlie on the head and scratched him between his ears, trying to calm him down.

"I feel ya, buddy. I hate this guts, too," he whispered to Charlie, making sure no one else heard him. Not that successfully, considering he then saw Emma tried to suppress a waterfall of giggles.

"So," Jace clapped his hands once, looking around the room. "Heard you, fellas, have some fun for me."

"Sure," Dean replied sarcastically. "If you can call a potential massive dark threat, and I mean like, apocalyptic kind of massive, fun, then we might face a tiny bit of a disagreement."

Silence followed Dean's words and, eventually, Jace forced a chuckle.

"Umm, that's a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?"

Melody patted him on the shoulder and shot him a grin that made Sam tense.

"We'll let you be the judge of that, angel boy," she told him.

Then Dean proceeded to tell him about the dream. The woman. The smoke. _Come to me_. The feeling that it was all so real. And as they watched Jace listening intently, the four of them nourished the hope that he'd laugh in their faces and tell them it was just a silly dream, and that the whole story about the Mark was no ' _apocalyptic kind of massive dark threat_ ' and that they had nothing to worry about. But Jace did none of that.

Instead, after Dean finished his story, he opened and closed his mouth a few times before speaking.

"Well," he said eventually, all joke gone from his face. "That ain't good."

Four voices groaned around him but Dean's eyes were the most expressive. He was freaking out, he was pale and swallowing hard. It wasn't over. Even gone, the Mark continued to haunt him. Of all the curses he'd lived through, this had to be the cruelest.

"So you know what it is?" Emma spoke softly when it was clear that Dean was still trying to process all that.

Jace pursed his lips. "I'm not sure. I mean I've heard stories, but… Gosh, could it be? Well…"

"Spit it out, angel boy. We ain't got all day," Dean growled, making Emma flinch. Seeing this part of him again… It made blood freeze in her veins. She remembered the look in his eyes as he succumbed to the darkness in him. She never wanted to see that again.

Jace sighed, running his hands over his face.

"Look, man. I got a theory. But it could be wrong, for all I know. This ain't your biblical kind of crap you've been dealing with. This is bigger than the freakin' apocalypse itself. The thing that would make your buddy Lucifer poop his pants and run for the hills screaming like a little girl."

"Jace," Mel hissed at him through his teeth, closing her eyes and fuming. "We got the picture. Get to the point."

Jace tried to gather his thoughts for a second, before he spoke again.

"So, like I said, all I know are stories. I wasn't there. This is a pre-biblical kind of thing. But back when I was in Heaven, I did hear rumors whispered around corners, about some kind of war that happened way before time as I knew it. I heard that before God had created the world and all this crap, there was only darkness that He and His precious archangels fought a war against. And he locked it away."

He paused for a minute, letting the four hunters swallow up what he was offering. Eventually, Sam was the one who broke the silence.

"What's this got to do with Dean's dream and the Mark?"

"Well that's the fun part," Jace grinned wickedly. "Care to guess what that he locked it away under?"

Silence, once again. Jace noticed as realization hit the four of them gradually.

"The Mark?" Emma whispered.

"The Mark itself," Jace confirmed. "He sealed the Darkness inside the Mark and offered it to Lucifer, trusting him to keep it safe. You know the drill for here forth. Lucifer rebelled, was banished to hell, passed the Mark to Cain. Stories claim that his whole teenage rebellion was an effect of the Mark itself, corrupting him the way it corrupted you, Dean."

And thus, silence fell thicker, heavier than before. They had a villain. And it was bad. The Darkness itself. Wasn't that encouraging. How do you even begin to fight the Darkness?

"But what does it mean, then?" Sam spoke timidly. "Was the woman from Dean's dream the Darkness?"

"It's a possibility," Jace rubbed his chin. "Like I said, man, all I have are stories. But Heaven was pretty reluctant and secretive when it came to this, so it got me suspicious. It's a lead. And the chick _did_ have the Mark on her chest, didn't she?"

Dean took in a shaky breath. "She did. Shit. This ain't good. So we gotta deal with a walking and talking Mark of Cain. Man, that's twisted. If the Mark from my head was bad, I can't imagine what the living thing can do."

Before they could slip into full drama mode and start a self-pitying session, Melody slammed her hands against the table.

"Well, come on, you sorry asses. We've got work to do."

 **~ K: Dorothy – Bang bang bang~**

Mel walked Jace out of the bunker, her head in a dozen places.

"Well, this was fun, blondie," Jace commented as he climbed on his bike. "We should do that again sometimes. Sure, you could maybe lose the party poopers downstairs, but y'know, I missed having you around."

Melody rolled her eyes. "Sure you did. Allow me to apologize for giving such little attention to our bonding time. I hadn't realized we were such buddies now. Wanna come over and braid my hair sometime?"

It was Jace's turn to glare at her through narrowed eyes. "Mock all you like, but I did save your asses, remember? And to not get a single phone call in almost three months? My masculinity was hurt."

"Well, excuse me for having bad cell reception down in hell," Melody turned her back on him and muttered bitterly.

She could practically hear Jace's wheels spinning in his head as he connected the dots.

"Come again for angel boy?" he mumbled eventually, and Melody faced him just to see his eyebrows raised in shock. "You died? And were down in the pit?"

When Melody nodded, Jace ran his hands through his hair angrily.

"Jesus, Melody. That's fifty shades of fucked up. Shit. I swear, Melody, if I'd known—"

"You would've what?" Melody smiled bitterly. "Would you have come to drag me out from the depths of hell?"

Jace threw his hands in the air like the answer was obvious.

"Well, yeah," he raised his voice.

"Save it, Jace. I'm not telling you this to guilt trip you. I'm telling you this because I need your help."

He took a deep breath, studying Melody through a wide gaze. He was still trying to wrap his head around this whole thing. Melody. Hell. The Darkness. Screw the Darkness. No wonder the blondie had this lost look in her eyes now, like there was a void in her she couldn't fill. How much had she spent down there? He couldn't believe he'd had no idea. He meant what he'd just told her. Granted, he was a fallen angel and his mojo wasn't that sparkly these days. But he wouldn't have let her rot in hell. He would've found a way to pull her out.

And now she needed his help. And it was a little weird how eager he was to jump to do whatever she was asking.

"Shoot," he prompted. "What do you need?"

Mel took a deep breath before speaking.

"I need you to help me hunt down demons and interrogate them," she spoke fiercely with murder in her eyes. "I wanna get to whoever dragged me down there. I need to make someone pay." She paused for a second, biting her lip, before her eyes met his. "You in?"

Jace pondered for the briefest of moments, but when he answered, there was no hesitation.

"Hell yeah."

Dean dreamed of her again that night.

The Darkness.

But there was no smoke this time, no woman, no words. He felt half relieved, but the air was still charged with that touch of wrongness that he couldn't shake, so he knew that _she_ was around.

He was in a house. A normal house, and a perfectly normal old woman was cooking dinner. For a second, Dean wondered if it were possible that this was just a normal dream, too. But then he heard a baby's cry.

Reluctant, Dean headed to the direction of the baby's cry. His steps took him towards the stairs, and then up the stairs, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. He searched his jacket for a knife, a gun, for any kind of weapon, but he had nothing on him. Not that it would've been of much help. This was a dream, so even if the Darkness was around here, it wasn't like he could kill her in a dream. And it was a baby, right? Why would he need weapons around a baby?

The stairs creaked under his feet, the only sound apart from the baby's cry and Dean's panting. He moved slowly, shoulders tense, until he reached the room from which the cry was coming. The door was ajar, and as he peaked inside, he saw a young woman leaning over a little baby, changing the diaper, and the baby was getting restless.

"Alright, Amara," the woman spoke softly. "I'm going to get your bottle ready and then we can get you some milk and put you to sleep, okay? I'll be right back."

She kissed the baby's –Amara's— forehead and lingered there for just a second. Dean didn't dare breathe and as he stood behind the door, there was something that caught his eye. As the woman lingered, he could've sworn there was something, some sparkly gas that flew right out of her mouth into Amara's, and it had looked a lot like angel grace. But that couldn't be, right? Because the woman wasn't an angel and Amara was just an innocent baby.

Dean shook his head and rubbed his eyes, and looked once again at the woman just to see her staring blankly ahead for a few seconds. As she got closer to the door, he noticed the look of emptiness in her eyes as she moved past him as if he weren't there. Well, he really wasn't. Because this was a dream. Most likely.

Reluctantly, Dean walked inside the baby's room. It didn't look at all unusual. Fluorescent bumper stickers on the walls, lots of toys, pink baby clothes and diapers. And a little baby girl giggling up at him. It was weird. The baby had stopped crying as soon as Dean got into her eye sight and she was reaching for him with her tiny hands. Dean got closer. The girl giggled some more and smiled widely at him. It was creeping him out.

He got even closer.

And he gasped.

On her chest, red as ever and burned into the baby's flesh, was the Mark of Cain.

He woke up with a start, panting, Emma rubbing his arms, a concerned look on her face.

"Dean," she breathed. "Oh my God, you wouldn't wake up. I couldn't wake you up. Are you okay?"

He kept breathing heavily for a few seconds, and eventually caught Emma's gaze. What Emma saw in those green eyes she loved so much made her breath catch in her throat. Dean Winchester was scared.

No.

Dean Winchester was terrified.

"The Darkness," Dean panted. "Her name is Amara."


	5. Something to justify your soul

**CHAPTER 4 – SOMETHING TO JUSTIFY YOUR SOUL**

 **~ K: Kari Kimmel – Black~**

"Hey, I think I got something," Sam announced from behind his laptop. "Get this. Jenna Nickerson. She was a sheriff's deputy in Superior, Nebraska. Is this the girl from your dream, Dean?"

Dean moved across the room to look at the image on Sam's laptop, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight.

"That's her," he whispered, pursing his lips. "What do you mean, _was_?"

Sam's expression darkened.

"A few days ago, she took a knife and murdered her grandmother. They took her in, but they found her dead in arrest. No one knows what happens."

Emma frowned. "What about the baby, though?"

"That's the thing," Sam gestured, then let his hands drop. "There was no baby. They searched the house. Are we really sure that's even a lead? I mean, it was a dream, after all."

Mel scratched her head and wrinkled her nose. "We went on less. And in our line of business, just a dream means a lot more than just a dream. Especially since we now know that this Jenna chick is a real person, and not a product of Dean's imagination. Maybe someone took the baby. Someone who wants to use her power as the Darkness to their advantage."

Emma paced thoughtfully. "Maybe. But what I don't get is, what about the glowing smoke that Dean saw the baby swallow? Was Jenna an angel?"

"Doubtful," Sam replied. "When they found her dead, they would've seen the print of the wings on the floor. Jenna was human. The pieces don't fit. What could have driven her to kill her grandma if Dean saw her as being perfectly fine? I would've gone with ghosts or demons, but then there's the glowing smoke. We're missing something."

As Sam finished his sentence, the door to the bunker opened and down the stairs came Jace, his leather jacket hanging loosely in his hand, his hair ruffled and the smuggest grin on his face.

"Hiya, fellas," he greeted, ignoring everyone but Mel glaring at him. "I might have the missing pieces to your puzzle right there."

"Who invited this guy?" Dean asked over Charlie's barks.

Sam tried and failed at hiding his pride and love for the dog. Sure, dogs were indeed loyal creatures, but it was as if Charlie sensed some more kinds of tension that floated around the room and acted consequently. Sam rubbed him beneath his ears and looked at Jace, expecting an answer to his brother's question, but instead, the answer came from Mel.

"I did," she rolled her eyes. "He's the angel on call, now that Cas is keeping a low profile."

While she could see that the three of them weren't precisely happy with his presence, none of them commented, so Jace took a seat and placed his feet on the table, earning even more glares. Sensing the tension growing thicker, Mel rolled her eyes and slapped his feet away.

"Behave," she growled at him, but Jace simply winked when the others weren't looking.

A little flustered by the gesture, Mel narrowed her eyes, then cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Care to enlighten us, your mighty celestial jackass? You said you have answers. So answer. What'd you got on Amara?"

Jace's eyebrows shot up. "For starters, I didn't know she had a name or an identity. That might be a teensy tiny problem that we'll deal with later. For now, let's see about that sparkly thingy."

Dean leaned across the table.

"We're all ears."

"Well," Jace stood up and paced a little, before putting his arm around Mel's shoulders and smirking, earning a glare from Sam. "That glowing thingy wasn't angel grace. I just got off the phone with your boy Cas. His Gracelessness is beyond useful without his mojo, but I'm tellin' ya, he did share some insight that made me realize. The growling thing was your hot lady's soul."

Four pairs of eyes turned to him in shock. Four mouths shut. Four heads trying to process.

"Say what now, mate?" Mel broke the silence, and she could see Jace fighting a smile at her words.

"Amara is eating up souls?" Emma shrieked, an incredulous looked painted on her expression alongside disgust.

Jace clapped his hands together, grinning like he was discussing Christmas decorations.

"Yep."

"You mean Jenna was soulless?" Sam followed. "That does explain the murder."

"So now we gotta find and kill a soul-eating baby," Dean groaned. "And whoever took her from that house. Ain't no way a newborn could have walked out alone. Awesome."

" _Au contraire,_ my friend," Jace argued. "She _could_ have walked out alone, because she wasn't a newborn anymore. You ain't looking for no baby, mate. If she started consuming souls, the rate at which she's growing must be off charts. You might be looking for a teenager now, at the very best."

"Wait, wait, wait," Sam cut in. "So other than the actual Darkness roaming off, looking to bring mayhem, now we also have a bunch of soulless people on our hands?"

Jace nodded unfazed, and Emma sighed.

"Well," she mumbled. "Looks like we've got a lot to worry about. Gonna be a long week. But see, what I don't get is, why does she keep showing herself in _your_ dreams, Dean? Does she want us to find her?"

Jace clicked his tongue before Dean got a chance to answer. "Doubtful. I don't think she knows what she's doing. That is, if she _is_ really projecting. There might be something else."

He looked around the room at all four faces expectantly, waiting for them to get where he was headed with this. While Sam and the girls were confused, Jace could see Dean's face morph into understanding.

"Oh, hell no," he growled. "No. That's over. That ship has sailed, ya hear me?"

Jace watched him curiously, and Mel raised her eyebrows.

"Well?" she prompted. "You gon' let us in on the joke, too? What's over?"

"I don't think Amara's projecting," Jace stating, crossing his arms over his chest. "If so, anyone would've been susceptible to said projections. I think it works as a private hotline."

"Oh, you son of a—" Dean lunged for him, but Emma put a hand on his chest.

"Dean," she hissed. "What is wrong with you?"

"Yeah, Dean," Jace mocked. "Did I hit a soft spot?"

"Jace," Melody mimicked her sister's reaction from earlier, looking more on the verge of hitting Jace for Dean rather than calming him down. "Stop toying us around and explain."

"Think about it, blondie," Jace turned to her. "Amara suddenly starts projecting, _unconsciously,_ to Dean Winchester, out of seven billion people. What are the odds? Hell, what are the odds that she'd be projecting to him out of all four of you? Breaking news, fellas. There's no such thing as coincidence."

Emma shook her head.

"So you're saying she _wants_ , or rather intends to project to Dean?"

Jace rolled his eyes dramatically, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. Did he have to spell everything out for them?

"Gosh, it's like working with children," he sighed. "Think, fellas, think. She's not projecting at all. Why would a villain _want_ the heroes to know what she's up to and where she can be found? Life ain't a comic book and villains don't waste time revealing their evil plans. Hell, I don't think she's even aware Dean can see her. But Amara was, however, sealed inside Dean, and I hope that's as dirty as it sounds."

"Jace," Mel hissed again, slapping the back of his head.

"Ow. Okay, I deserved that. So you were bearing the Mark of Cain until not long ago, Dean, and the Darkness that was contained by it somehow infiltrated in your system and it learned the patterns of your soul. I think that, now that she's out, Amara may be still hung up those patterns. Like your very own radio station is the only frequency she knows and she's still looking for it, even though she may not know it."

Silence fell. Deep, heavy silence. Dean was panting, refusing to accept what Jace was implying. Emma was terrified to even begin to think about it, because she suddenly felt that what she had with Dean was tainted by a third presence. She felt like a dirty mistress, even though they loved each other and were in a relationship and had never even crossed paths with Amara. Sam and Mel were mostly just confused. Eventually, Jace broke the silence and spelled out loud what they were all too afraid to voice.

"You're connected, mate. You and the Darkness. It ain't nice, I know. But there's a bond I'm sure even you can't deny. Maybe you can try to benefit fr—"

"Like hell I am," Dean grunted, cutting Jace off and averting his gaze. "I can deny whatever the hell I want. There's no bond, there's no connection, nothing, alright? _Nada._ It's all because of the Mark. All that pattern of the soul crap you just said."

Jace chuckled, a deep, rich sound in the depth of his chest.

"Whatever floats your boat, _amigo._ Whatever you wanna call it, it's there. Figure it out."

Leaving the words floating in the air, Jace stood up from his chair, raised two fingers to his forehead saluting and headed out.

"Well, that happened," Mel pursed her lips eventually. "I'll go with… Not good?"

Three pairs of eyes were rolled.

"He's wrong," Dean stated fiercely, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw. "I don't care what he's saying. He's wrong. I'm gonna find Amara and put an end to this once and for all. This has gotta stop."

Emma put a hand on his shoulder and, under her touch, she felt his muscles slowly relax and he let out a heavy breath.

"We'll figure it out," she whispered, her hand slipping down onto his chest and feeling his steady heartbeat against her palm. Dean placed his hand over hers and leaned into her touch, the weight of the world still pressing on his shoulders.

Each of them was wrapped into their own thoughts, working through solutions, endless solutions, none good enough. How do you fight something that was there from before the beginning of time? But most of all, Dean thought, how do you fight off its influence when it had been crawling around the core of your soul not long ago? He buried his head in his hands and breathed in an out. In. And out. In and out, for a few seconds, before sighing deeply and looking up.

"Okay," he spoke fiercely. "We will. Sam, see what you can dig up on the Darkness. Call up Cas, discuss theories, do your thing and nerd up. Emma and I are gonna head out and get a hold of those soulless bastards. Hope that'll be some sort of lead. Mel?"

Three pairs of eyes turned to Mel, who made a show out of checking her watch and sighing dramatically.

"Well, as fun as it was, fellas, I gotta head out," she announced.

Emma frowned, but Dean was the one who voiced the question.

"Head out where?"

Mel winked at him. "That's for me to know and for you to wonder, pretty eyes."

She turned on her heels, ready to leave, not planning on offering explanation rather than lying. But Sam caught her wrist gingerly at the last second and spun her around.

"Hey," he whispered softly, making sure they were out of ear shot. "You gonna be okay?"

And Mel saw it in his eyes. He got it. He knew where she was headed out to. He understood she was off to hunting down those answer, and back in her eyes, Sam could read that this quest of hers, however unfruitful it might have turned out to be, it was the key to the shackles that her time in hell still held around her wrists and ankles. So while it killed him that she was keeping him at arm's length, he had to let her go do what he had to do.

And Mel read the decision in his eyes. The love. The understanding. And she felt it in her chest, then, the sharp pang of guilt of lying to him, of not having told him she'd chosen a different sidekick to fight her battles. So she forced a smile and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his chick.

"Yeah," she murmured. "Yeah, I'm good."

She turned around again and, this time, Sam's gaze followed her out of the bunker.

 **~ K: Dorothy – Gun in my hand~**

"Kept me waiting long enough, blondie."

Mel rolled her eyes at Jace, who was casually leaning against his bike.

"And they were still suspicious. Be glad. I could've kept you waiting longer."

She climbed on Samantha, feeling the comforting safety that she provided, and she was about to put on her helmet when she noticed Jace watching her with a strange expression on his face. For a while, she held his gaze and he didn't avert his, those blue eyes shaking something up in her. As to Jace, he was shaken up alright, and it had a lot to do with how insanely hot she looked in that leather jacket and ankle boots, on her motorbike, wind in her blonde curls.

"What?" Melody snapped eventually.

But he couldn't tell her any of that. So he told her the next thing on his mind.

"Why me, Melody?" he asked, and Mel's eyes widened at him using her full name. "Why not grab your boyfriend and kick some ass together as you ride your bike into the sunset? And why not tell him I'm in this with you? Seems to me like lying ain't gon' win no prize for relationship of the year."

Mel sighed and ran a hand through her hair as she scorched her brain for a good enough reason. _More like looking for an excuse,_ her brain yelled back at her.

"I can't drag Sam into this," she replied eventually. "I've got demons to fight and get rid of on my own, and he's what I can come back to. He's the one that grounds me. As to you, I guess you've just got less of a conscience. I can't afford being held back by useless morals."

Jace was silent, taking in her words, and Mel was actually starting to worry they were having a moment, but then he broke into a wide grin.

"Knew my wickedness would come in handy one day."

Melody rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop a smile from forming on her lips anyway.

"Dork," she muttered under her breath, but knew Jace could still hear and his smug smirk told her so.

"So, where to, blondie? Lead the way."

Mel sighed and put on her helmet for good this time. He couldn't see her smile, but he knew it held no mercy, no compassion, no kindness. She was out for blood.

"I say we find ourselves couple o' demons. Kick some ass. Ask some questions, see if anyone knows who was involved in my time down there. Then watch some demon faces light up."

Oh yeah, Jace thought. She was about to raise hell on the asses that had put her through hell.

Both of them started their motorcycles and hit the road.

 **A.N. Meanwhile, Jace's fangirls, myself included, scream in the distance.**

 **Oh well.**


	6. On the edge of the devil's backbone

**CHAPTER 5 – ON THE EDGE OF THE DEVIL'S BACKBONE**

 **~ K: Halsey – Hold me down~**

Mel drew the blade across the demon's throat.

Yet another dead end.

Still no answers.

She felt its blood on her hands and the adrenaline in her blood asked for more.

"Don't you think the trail of dead demons might put off other hunters?" Jace asked from behind her.

But she didn't hear him. She was too caught up in the blood game, in the death game, in the dance of the blade cutting through flesh. She had never felt so free. It was the first time she'd felt alive ever since she'd come back from hell.

She gripped the blade tight and took a few steps forward, eager to follow the next lead and either get answers or get murderous on some demon asses. It was a win-win situation.

"Blondie," she heard Jace call behind her, but she didn't have time for his Zen crap. He could stuff it some place where the sun don't shine.

She tucked the blade inside her jacket and headed towards her bike, her lips pursed in a tight line that made her beautiful features look like an angry scowl.

"Melody," Jace said her name louder, catching her elbow and turning her to him. "I think that's enough for today."

She looked at him for a minute like she didn't recognize him. Jace was terrified of this new expression on her. She looked far gone and he didn't know how to bring her back.

"I say when it's enough," she spat at him and freed her arm.

Jace ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't just let her go off like this, it wasn't healthy for her or her sanity. But he wasn't sure how to reach her inside that pit she had buried herself in. He tried a different approach, then. He sighed and hoped it would work, placing a hand over the one that was reaching for her helmet.

"Mel," he spoke softly, and was surprised to notice she had actually stopped mid-movement. "Listen to me. We've got about a dozen dead demons and none of them was able to tell us anything. They don't know why you were sent downstairs. Let's call it a day and sleep on it."

Melody didn't move, but Jace saw her clench her hand into a fist.

"If they didn't know anything, then maybe we need to aim higher," she spoke through gritted teeth. "Higher demons. I'll find a way."

"You will," he was quick to reassure her. "And I'll help you. But not today. This is enough for today."

For a second, he was worried she was about to snap at him again and that void look in her eyes would take control again and send her into yet another rage access. But instead, she closed her eyes and sighed, and when she opened them, he saw the rage slowly dissipate and replaced with a tinge of sadness.

She nodded.

"Fine," she hissed. "For now."

Jace finally removed his hand from over hers and broke into a grin in the hopes of releasing some of the tension.

"'Atta girl," he gently bumped her shoulder with his fist. "Then how about we seal it with a drink, what'd ya say, eh? Blow off some steam?"

Mel snorted at his offer.

"Dream on, angel boy. I ain't drinking up with you."

Jace chuckled and winked at her, but she simply ignored him as she climbed on Samantha and put on her helmet.

"Oh, come on, blondie," he called. "What's the problem? Scared you'll get drunk and make out with me?" As she started the bike and drove away, he laughed whole-heartedly and yelled after her. "Promise I won't tell your Winchester sweet-cheeks if that happens. Come on, it'll be our dirty little secret!"

 **~ K: The Civil Wars – Devil's backbone~**

Dean felt something in his blood singing to him. Calling to him. But he did his best to ignore it, because the alternative would've been acknowledging it, and acknowledging it was one step away from accepting it. And he would not accept anything that connected him to the greatest evil, to the most wicked creature they'd been up against just yet.

But every mile he drove, the feeling, the longing, the calling, the song got stronger, ringing in his ear. He looked at the passenger's seat, where Emma slept peacefully, her bottom lip slightly pouted that made Dean want to kiss it until he was out of breath, her breathing tranquil. She was everything he would've ever wanted and had never dared to hope for. But yet, there was the shadow of sin tattooed in his veins, the hunger for a forbidden fruit he didn't need or want, but craved for. God, his brain was a mess.

Emma stirred in her seat, breaking his train of thoughts. She yawned and stretched like a kitten, and Dean felt a smile bloom at the corners of his lips. _Forbidden fruit, my ass,_ he thought as he watched her with content. _I've got all I need right here._

"Hey, you," he turned to her, and Emma returned his smile with a bright one of her own.

"Hey. I passed out, didn't I?"

Dean chuckled. "I take it my giving you a full insight over Baby's anatomy took its toll on you."

He couldn't see her face in the darkness of the night, but he could somehow tell she was blushing.

"What can I say," she muttered flustered. "As much as I love the Impala, I think all those years listening to Melody ramble on about cars kinda left me scarred."

Dean laughed whole-heartedly. It was so damn fascinating. Every time he believed he couldn't love her more, all it took was a sideways glance from her, or a smile, or flushed cheeks, and he learned that he could. So much more, always more. And he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that she was his to keep. His anchor.

Yeah, he head to fix up the hell out of this. It was his mess, and this girl had dived in head first into it, and he would not let her get caught up in it and end up hurt. Whatever this stupid connection the angel boy thought Dean had with Amara was all about, it was nothing a blade through her Mark-of-Cain'ed chest couldn't solve.

"Are we there yet?" Emma inquired after a few seconds of silence.

"Almost there, short stuff," he mumbled back. "I just hope we're not going in blindly here. _Again._ "

"What do you mean?" Emma frowned.

"I don't know. Sounds like a typical murder to me. People can turn fifty disturbing shades of screwed up without supernatural interference. So a guy killed his wife. Whack jobs kill their wives all the time. Doesn't scream soulless to me."

Emma sighed and shook her head as one would do when speaking to a kid. Dean hated to be on the receiving end of that look.

"Maybe not," she agreed reluctantly. "I'm not saying you're wrong, but—"

"But lemme guess. I am?"

She bit her lip against a smile. Not what she was going to say, but definitely what she was going to imply. Sometimes, he just knew her too well.

"They were happy, Dean. The man said he loved his wife and he confessed that he feels no regret whatsoever for having killed her. It occurred to him. That's what his statement was. That _does_ scream soulless to me. Not to mention the fact that if we were to trace down Amara from Nebraska, where she consumed Jenna's soul, this town where the murder happened would be on the right track. I'm not saying it's much, Dean, and I know the last two leads were dead ends, but it's still a lead that might get us to her. It's worth a shot."

"Fine, Miss Know-It-All," he muttered under his breath, and when Emma glared, he raised his voice. "You know, it's easier being pissed at Sam for always acting like a smart ass. At least I don't feel like making out with Sam because he's hot when he's angry."

Emma couldn't hold in her laughter anymore and burst into a waterfall of giggles.

"Gross," she slapped Dean in his shoulder.

And Dean mentally photographed her like that. He'd use this memory as a memento of what kept him human for when he'd face the one thing that had tried to strip him of the same humanity not long ago.

This was the third town where this happened. Their soulless dude turned up dead, taking their lead with him to the grave. Third one. Freaking third one. Just like Jenna, just like the other two before him, the guy who'd murdered his wife had been found dead in prison right before his trial.

Emma put a hand on his shoulder as they walked to the car.

"Don't beat yourself up, Dean. We'll find her."

He sighed and turned to her, in deep need of having her stand before him in order to not go crazy right now. The mess is harder to clean up when it roams freely all across the country. But for her sake and for her insane optimism, he forced a smile.

"Sure we will, short stuff. But for now, this soulless quest ain't getting us nowhere. Dead end. Might as well pack our bags and go back to the bunker, see if we can dig up something from the Man of Letters' books."

Emma sighed. "You're probably right. I just thought we had to follow every lead while it was still warm. The longer she's out there, the more powerful she becomes and the harder it becomes for us to be able—"

But Dean was no longer listening to her. His eyes were unfocused, his breathing became frantic and in the back of his mind, he heard those same words that had been haunting him for a few days now.

 _Dean._

 _Come to me._

Emma trailed off when he saw his face go disconcertingly pale, as if he'd just seen a ghost. But he was Dean Winchester. He hunted ghosts for a living. What could have gotten so terrified? Unless…

"Dean," Emma whispered, already anticipating the answer. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Dean gulped and voiced the words neither of them wanted to hear.

"She's here. Somewhere near, I don't know. But she's here."

Emma stopped breathing. "Amara?"

Sure, it was absurd to even ask. But she wanted so badly to be wrong. She wanted Dean to snort and laugh in her face and tell her ' _What the hell, why would I know that'_. But it didn't happen. Dean did know. And when he nodded, Emma didn't let out that breath she'd been holding. Instead, her lungs burned with pressure as if she'd never again be able to draw in another breath. She'd saved her Dean from her claws once, back when she was an evil mark. She wasn't sure she could fight off Amara now that she was a physical threat.

"Where?" she brought herself to ask. "Where is she? What do we do?"

Dean scratched the back of his neck, growing frustrated.

"I don't know, Emma. Do I look like a freaking Darkness GPS? I don't even know how I the hell knew that."

Emma tried to calm down. He was clearly freaking out more than she was, so out of the two of them, she had to be the cerebral one. She willed her hands to stop shaking and reminded herself of the reassuring coldness of the blade pressed against her lower back.

Before she could have a chance to come up with a plan and respond, Dean turned on his heels and walked down the sidewalk. She hurried to fall into step with him, staying silent by his side, not wanting to push him.

A few minutes of walking later, they reached the outskirts of town and they were both panting.

"What are we doing here?" Emma finally asked.

Dean looked around. The houses had become small dots in the distance and they were surrounded by wilt plants and dull trees.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I followed a hunch. Better start hoping it won't get us killed."

 **~ K: Mischa Chillak – Ready or not~**

 _Dean._

Oh, crap. There it was again. There it was, that voice, that voice that haunted both his dreams and his waking hours. The way she spoke his name was playing in a loop in his head on and on every day. He just wished he could shut it out so that he could focus enough to find her. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a blade.

He was ending it today.

 _Dean._

If _**only**_ that stupid voice in his head would just shut the hell up.

But when he heard Emma gasp breathlessly by his side, his body knew before his brain had figured it out. He turned around and froze.

The voice wasn't in his head.

Right before him, a few feet away, stood the woman from his dream. Red hair, black dress, bare feet and murder in her eyes. And she had said eyes fixated on him, a terrifying grin on her lips, barely acknowledging Emma's presence. Good. Dean didn't want Emma to feel the ashen tension, the coldness, the stillness of his mind.

But none of this was as terrifying as Dean's instincts. He had to kill her. He had to rid the world of the threat of the Darkness. He had to put an end to this and protect everyone he loved. He had to kill her. But he didn't want to.

"Dean," Amara whispered again, his name sounding like a profanity on her full lips. "You came. You felt my presence."

Dean shuddered. On his left, Emma was wide-eyed and out of breath.

"Dean," she whispered as well, and the symmetry made Dean dizzy. "The blade."

He willed himself to start clutching the blade tighter, to send it flying right between Amara's eyes. He visualized his muscles contract and his arm raising and his fingers letting the blade go and the blade penetrating her skull. He had to kill her. But he didn't want to. He couldn't. The more he willed his hand to tighten around the blade, the more his fingers grew weaker.

As Emma's voice pierced the silence, Amara's eyes fell on her for the first time. Dean's breathing became frantic. But Amara didn't linger on her, and turned to Dean again.

"I believe your friend is an unnecessary presence here," Amara spoke, her voice articulate and thick as every word rolled off her tongue. "I wanted our first meeting to be a little more private."

Dean clenched his jaw.

"You leave Emma out of this."

Amara chuckled and moved, making Dean and Emma both grow tense. She took a few steps forward, analyzing Emma like a tiger about to devour a helpless antelope. Emma kept pointing at the blade with her gaze, and Dean got the message. He had to kill her. But he didn't want to.

"Emma," Amara repeated her name mockingly. " _Emma_ needs to mind her own business. This is between you and me, Dean. There are things your little _girlfriend_ is unable to understand. What we have doesn't concern her."

"Like hell it doesn't," Dean spat, wishing Emma wouldn't provoke her, that she would just stay quiet and let him handle this, that she would keep her mouth shut and maybe, just maybe, Amara would let her live.

Except he wasn't exactly handling this, either. He was perfectly useless, entirely helpless in front of Amara. It was like, even if Emma was his favorite rock song that he sang from the top of his lungs in the car to piss off Sam, his radio kept going to the one frequency it knew. He and the Darkness shared a frequency and it scared the living crap out of him.

Amara was looking at him amused.

"It's fascinating," she spoke seductively, moving to stand in front of him. "You're fighting so hard. You're trying to resist me. But Dean, I can't be resisted."

"Dean," Emma whispered again, pleading, begging him to snap out of it and drive that blade through her chest.

Amara didn't directly acknowledge that Emma had spoken. She kept her gaze fixated on Dean.

"You will never have with her what you can have with me, Dean. We're connected. We're bonded and have been so back when we were as one. And when you and I fulfill our destiny, her name will have been long forgotten."

"No," Dean forced himself to mutter. "No, you're wrong."

Amara kept that amused expression on her face, like her favorite lab rat was throwing a cute tantrum. Not once did her eyes stop on Emma, as if she couldn't do her the favor of granting her a single glance. Eventually, she raised her hand and placed it on Dean's cheek. Dean heard Emma draw in a sharp breath, while he had stopped breathing at all.

"We'll see," Amara whispered. "Meanwhile, enjoy the time you have left with _Emma._ After I'm done with God's creation and I'll have rebuilt the world to my liking, you _will_ see the truth. Your little girlfriend is light and purity. But I have seen your soul, Dean. When you're ready to give in to the darkness teasing your soul, _come find me."_

Dean shuddered at his words.

 _Dean._ The prologue to this real life nightmare.

 _Come find me._ A mind-shattering conclusion.

Dean shut his eyes tightly, trying to shrug off her words, trying to hold on to Emma's presence just inches away from him. Trying to pull himself together.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and, after the initial shock, he could tell it was Emma's.

When he opened his eyes, Amara was gone.

 **Hey, guys! I loved writing this chapter** _ **so much.**_ **Once I sat down, I literally could not stop writing, and I love working with Amara so much. She's such a complex character. Hope you enjoyed it as well!**

 **Also, what do ya think about the soundtrack? Do you guys enjoy my music choices? And if not, I'm open to suggestions.**

 **Also, you can go check out my Tumblr (supernatural-fanfictional) for some really cool videos of our favorite guys.**

 **Love y'all,**

 **xoxo**


	7. River of insufferable sin

**CHAPTER 6 – RIVER OF INSUFFERABLE SIN**

 **~ K: Jasmine Thompson – Like I'm gonna lose you~**

Neither of them spoke the whole trip back to the bunker. What was there to say? The questions that lingered on the tips of their lips still remained without answers, so why bother asking them? There were uncertainties filling the thick air around them, and then again, how can you phrase a question you don't understand yourself? What do you do when you don't understand what it is that you don't understand?

But Dean waited for it. He waited for whatever questions Emma would throw at him. He waited for the blame, for the fight, for the screams and for lowered heads because he had no idea what the hell had been going on between and Amara back there. He kept telling himself that, had it come to it, he would've chosen Emma all over again, would've thrown himself in front of Amara and would've driven a blade through her, if only to save Emma. And yet, his brain kept on screaming at him that it _had_ come to it. There had been a choice. And faced with it, he hadn't been able to choose the reasonable answer. Whatever hell the Darkness was about to unleash, it was on him. Whatever came next was his fault. And he'd have to live with the guilt of not having ended it when he'd had the chance.

He cast a glance in Emma's direction. But he could not live with the guilt of having let her down. He could have never forgiven himself if Amara had laid a single finger on her. Because, Dean realized with a gulp and a skipped heartbeat, he would've been unable to stop her.

But he told Emma none of that. And he pushed it all deep down under his thoughts, refusing to let it graze across the surface. Because the minute he'd accept that, they'd be truly lost. The world. His family. The woman he loved. The relationship, the broken, unsteady, beautiful, yet somehow crooked relationship they'd managed to build. All lost. So he would not face that just yet. He'd find a way to fight it. For the world. For his family. If only for the woman he loved. For her, he'd fight it all for her.

They arrived at the bunker late that night, the dirty hooks of an empty silence still crippling them. Emma got out of the car and shut the door lightly behind her. Dean gulped. He would have rather she'd slammed the doors and raised her voice. They would've argued it off and would've agreed to disagree, or maybe they would've ended up making out and Emma would've afterwards called him a 'dumbass', shaking her head at him like he was a stubborn child. But this calmness to her gestures, this quiet storm in her terrified him.

He followed her silently inside the bunker and into the library. They both knew the talk was coming. Dean just hoped for mercy. He stared at the back of her head and willed her to keep in mind that he loved her with everything he had, even if it wasn't much. Back before he met her, he'd thought he wouldn't be able to love a woman, to care for another human being other than Sam and Cas. But then she'd walked into his life, she'd opened the door of that dirty motel room, she'd slammed bottles in his head and had taken him to raid pharmacies. And she'd somehow managed to grow flowers on dry soil. She'd been the rain in the dessert. And Dean often wondered whether she was just a mirage and whether he was suffering from heatstroke.

She sat down at the table in the library and Dean lingered standing a few feet away from her. Emma ran a hand over her face and when she raised her eyes to meet his, she looked utterly exhausted.

"I don't wanna push you," she said abruptly, and Dean raised his eyebrows. "I really don't, Dean. I know you're having it bad and that what you went through couldn't have been easy and that there's no denying about some sort of connection going on between you and… Amara."

She closed her eyes and drew in a sharp breath, as if the name of the Darkness rolling off her tongue physically damaged her.

"But, Dean… We had her, for crying out loud. You had her one swing of an arm away, in the range of your blade. We could've ended it. Saved the world and all that crap. We could've saved _us_ , Dean. And you hesitated. And I know you well enough to know you don't hesitate. So what the hell happened back there?"

She rose from her chair to stand before him and Dean dared to reach and take her hands in his. Surprisingly enough, she let him. He met her gaze and found no anger there. Just a deep disappointment and genuine curiosity. Seeing it now, Dean preferred the anger. Would've taken the anger any day instead of this way her brows creased or her eyes looked watery or she bit her lip until she drew blood.

He raised her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

"In all honesty, I don't know," he admitted in a low voice. "I don't know what got into me. I guess I underestimated this stupid connection Jace talked about and it took me by surprise, is all. But there's nothing to worry about."

Or so he hoped.

Emma didn't look convinced the least bit.

"It didn't look like _stage fright,_ Dean. You've faced bad stuff before, you told me about it. Lucifer. Leviathan. You survived the Apocalypse. You were a _demon._ None of that has ever stopped you before. There's more to it, Dean, I know it, because I know you. What are you not telling me?"

Dean sighed and dropped her hands, digging deep within himself to find a good explanation, to find reassurance; and enough of it to convince himself first, if he wanted to convince her. He caught her shoulders and leaned in, kissing her forehead softly. He lingered there for a moment, before resting his own forehead against hers.

"Look, Emma. Sure, there are things I don't understand right now and some feelings I can't explain. But remember what you told me about finding an anchor?" She nodded reluctantly. "You've become that for me. You're my anchor. You tie me to what's real." He cupped her cheek and ran his thumb across her jaw. "And this is real. We're real."

He closed his eyes and breathing in deeply, letting her scent fill his lungs. He needed to believe this more than she could know. She let out a shaky breath and caught his wrists.

"I don't get it," she muttered frustrated it. "I don't understand anything. You say I ground you, but to what end? Why would you need me to tie you to what's real? You said there's nothing to worry about."

He counted three heartbeats and brushed his lips softly against hers. She didn't fight it, welcoming the gentle kiss and eventually, Dean broke away, looking into her eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know what I said. Now shut up and c'mere, short stuff."

He pulled her into his arms and wrapped her into a tight hug, putting all of his soul into it.

"Dean—" she tried, but he cut her off.

"We can fix this, Emma," he said, and despite the shaky voice, she believed him. Perhaps she wanted, she needed too badly to do so. "We'll fix this. I deserve something good in my life, at last. And I got you. I ain't letting anything get in the way of that."

Emma squeezed him tighter, let herself drown in his embrace.

"That might just be beyond your control," she mumbled in his chest, hoping he wouldn't notice that his shirt was stained by a couple of tears.

To that, Dean could not answer. It might have been just that. Control was so fragile these days. So he didn't want to think about that just now. Instead, he just held her tighter to his chest, allowing himself to be wrapped in her essence. He let her clutch to him with her little hands until he was sure he wasn't getting away from her grasp.

Yes, control was frail and underrated. And he had none of that. He had no reassurance that tomorrow would bring any certainty or that it would make things any better. He had no idea whether his self-control would improve or whether his hand would learn to drive blades against Amara. He had no idea whether he'd be able to protect Emma tomorrow.

But they had today.

And today, he'd try to make up for whatever ways he chose to fuck up tomorrow.

 **~ K: Brown Bird – Down to the river~**

"Why didn't we think of that earlier?" Melody chimed as she buried the usual container in the dirt at the center of a crossroads.

Jace rolled his eyes and watched her with pursed lips. Oh yeah. He clearly wasn't into it.

"Probably because it's a bad idea," he mocked. "Dumb, really. You're lucky you're pretty. I tend to lose focus when you talk. Otherwise, I would have never let myself get dragged into this. It stinks of crossroads demons."

Melody chuckled at his implication and was grateful it was dark, so that Jace couldn't see that she was blushing slightly. She shrugged it off, though. Melody Bennett didn't blush. Except around her Winchester motherfucker, and those weren't proud moments on her part.

"I don't know, Jace," she stood up from her crouching, smirking at him. "The whole stinking like a crossroads demons business might have something to do with us standing at a crossroads. And with us, y'know, summoning a crossroads demon."

Jace rolled his eyes.

"Were you always such a smart ass?"

"Sam is rubbing off on me," she shrugged, and with that, Jace kept his mouth shut.

It was rather suspicious. They had a nice bromance going on that Melody had gotten to actually enjoy, to her absolute astonishment. They teased back and forth, but whenever Sam's name was mentioned, Jace backed away. Maybe Sam's antipathy towards him was being reciprocated. Well, ain't like she was breaking a sweat over it.

Five minutes passed, and nothing happened. Mel was growing restless and she was starting to smell an ' _I told you so'_ about to be thrown her way.

"Why the hell is it taking so long?" she hissed.

"I told y—"

"If you say you told me so, Jace, I swear to God I will break your kneecaps."

Jace snickered and nudged her with his shoulder.

"Feel welcome to try."

"Don't tempt me, angel boy."

Jace sighed dramatically and threw his hands in the air.

"Wake up and smell the crossroads, sister. You're a Bennett, you're a Winchester sidekick, not to mention a doppelganger with angel grace. No demon is stupid enough to show up."

Melody opened her mouth to retort or to snap at him, when they heard a voice behind them.

"Business is business."

They both turned around to face a woman of average height, with brown dull hair and a common face, staring at them with red eyes. A crossroads demon. So much for not being stupid enough to show up. Jace was clearly overestimating the intelligence of demons.

"Care to make a deal, little Bennett?" the girl demon asked. "It'll be my pleasure to sign off the soul of one of hell's most wanted. And you're hot enough so that I wouldn't mind sealing the deal the old fashioned way."

She smirked and winked at Mel, but Mel just shuddered. She turned to Jace and could practically see the fantasies playing in a loop in his head.

"I second that," he muttered under his breath. "As long as I get to watch."

Melody jabbed him in his ribs and he wheezed, trying to regain his composure.

"Right," he cleared his throat. "No deal for us."

The demon sighed. "Such a shame. To think of all the fun we could've had."

"Save it, demon," Mel hissed. "We're the only ones who get to have fun tonight."

She shot the demon girl a wicked grin, ruthless and cruel, and by some chance, Jace was oddly turned on by it. The demon followed Mel's gaze and only then did she realize she was standing in the middle of a devil's trap. She raised her eyes with a bored expression on her face.

"Crossroads demon is a job that doesn't pay enough for this kind of shit," she muttered. "Should've seen it coming from a chick who's hooked with the Winchesters."

Mel shrugged maliciously. "Damn right, you should've." She spun the blade between her fingers, circling the devil's trap, blood thirst obvious in her eyes. "Now. This doesn't have to get ugly. I have questions. You give me answers and you can keep those pretty red eyes of yours. No answers equals one ticket back to hell."

If Mel's threats affected her, the demon showed no sign of it. Instead, she pursed her lips and cocked her head to one side.

"If I've got answers, little Bennett, you're welcome to have 'em. I ain't that particularly loyal to hell or to a king who humiliates us for kicks. Demons have it harsh. We're scapegoats. And this is why we bow to no one. Say the word, sweet cheeks. I'll betray whomever you want me to betray."

To Jace, it seemed stinky. A demon so eager to sell out the big boss? Sure, demons didn't exactly have honor and principles, but that was low even for them. Even hell had a hierarchy. He didn't trust this demon girl for a second, but seeing how Melody studied her like a cat would the prey, curious and intrigued, considering her words, Jace was actually worried. Melody was slipping farther away, and he was afraid that one of these days, he might not be able to bring her back from that edge.

Back.

 _Back to Sam._

Wrong place and time to think about that, Jace chastised himself. Instead, he placed a hand on Mel's shoulder. She didn't seem to acknowledge him.

"Mel," he tried.

When she heard him using her nickname, Mel looked at him with eyebrows raised. Her name felt weird on his lips. Like a prayer.

"Mel. Are you sure about this? You're playing with fire here."

She shrugged off his hand. "I'm fine. We're in this looking for answers, Jace, remember? I said I'd do anything to get them and I'm standing by my words."

He sighed. "Yes, Melody, I got that loud and clear. But I think we might be overstepping some b—"

"Jace," Melody hissed at him. "You're overstepping on my tail right now. Either help me or move aside and let me deal with it myself."

Jace sighed and took a step back. She'd been the one who had come to him seeking help. And yet, all he'd done had been to step in her way and keep her from losing herself. Jace was at peace with himself for having done so. But he felt as if to keep doing that would've gotten him to lose his place as her side kick. She would've felt as if he was holding her back. He had to find more tact about this. Mel needed him, whether she knew it or not.

She turned to the demon, blade still in her hand.

"Now," she started. "I spent some time downstairs a while ago. Surely you must've heard."

The demon girl clicked her tongue. "Rings a bell."

Jace could tell Melody's face had darkened. "I wanna know who put me there. I was meant to die. To move on. You're gonna tell me who I gotta put my blade through."

There was silence for a few seconds, the thick kind that you could cut through with a knife. Melody was growing impatient. Finally, the demon burst into clear laughing, throwing her head back.

"Oh, girl, silly girl," she mused. "That's all you wanted to know? That's not even treason for me. That's common sense. Crowley may sit on the throne of hell, but he was the king of the crossroads first. He still manages all soul trades."

Mel and Jace were quiet for a while, letting the information register.

"No, you're wrong," Melody argued. "Crowley got me out. Why would he be the one to put me there in the first place?"

The demon raised a hand and inspected her nails. "As leverage. This is a bigger fight than you can understand, Melody Bennett. This whole Darkness thing. Dean Winchester was meant to bear that Mark, and you, as his doppelganger, play a major role in it. You don't know what kind of role, I don't know what kind of role, I doubt anyone can make wild guesses, not even your angel hottie."

Jace stepped forward.

"Hang on," he cut her off. "I don't get what you're implying. What does Crowley have to do with the Darkness and all that? When Mel was in hell, Dean Winchester still had the Mark and there was no talk of the Darkness."

The demon huffed. "I didn't say Crowley knew, either. Not back then, he didn't. Look, I don't know what his deal was, but Crowley is a strategist. Nothing he does is unaccounted for. You want answers, little Bennett? He's the one you should take your questions to."

Melody pondered. She should've known better. When she'd told Jace they had to take the fight higher, they'd stopped at crossroads demons. Turns out, they hadn't gone high enough. They had to aim for the throne.

"Right," she mumbled to herself. "Take the fight to the king himself."

"Melody—" Jace started again, but Melody didn't seem to acknowledge his presence.

"That'd be all, demon girl. Thanks. Now I know who I gotta put my blade through."

She moved closer, the demon girl still watching her bored. She waited for Melody to erase the devil's trap and free her, but instead, Melody traced the edge of her blade.

"Too bad I gotta work my way through to the top."

With those words, before the demon could have a chance to realize what was going on, Melody stabbed her in the face.

 **I am so terribly sorry for the awful delay. But my laptop broke and I have been SUFFERING and going out of my mind without a way to post this. I know, I know, I'm awful. I'll try to keep you as updated as I can, but since my finals are coming soon, I don't know how good I can make by my promise. Super sorry in advance!**

 **Anywaaaaay, I hope you liked the chapter! MMWA is a lil bit darker than MBH, ain't it?**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Lots of love,**

 **xoxo**


	8. Keep drinking up

**CHAPTER 7 – STILL DRINKING UP**

 **~ K: Royal Deluxe – Make a little money~**

Things were weird in the bunker these days. Tension was thick and obvious, and none of them knew how to get rid of it. Even Charlie was affected by it and had taken a break from his full of energy self, considering no one was paying enough attention to him or petting him.

Dean and Emma had supposedly worked through all the Amara thing, but in all truthness, there was still a palpable awkwardness between the two of them that they couldn't just shake off. They were trying to brush it off, but it was more than obvious that Amara was ever-present between them like a shadow. Melody was distant and seemed to have something on her mind, and Sam kept pondering whether to ask her or to leave her be. As to him, it was clear that whatever got to Melody, got to him, too, indirectly, and that the constant tiptoeing around her took its toll on him.

All in all, everyone was having a shitty week. Even more than usual. And that said something, considering all weeks were pretty shitty as it was.

It was Friday night. They were all gathered in the bunker's library, each of them wrapped in their own bubble, with their noses buried under a dozen books. No one spoke and the silence was charged and awkward.

Melody was the first to look up. Her gaze travelled over the faces of her sister and the Winchester brothers and she let out a sigh. What were they doing at home on a Friday night, sulking like the pansies they were? So things were bad right now. Big deal. Things were always bad for them.

She shut the book she was reading with a loud thud, making Emma and the boys flinch. The three of them looked up at Mel questioningly.

"We are walking messes," she state simply.

Emma and Sam glared, the same cute frown on their faces, which Mel found a little disconcerting. Dean simply raised an eyebrow.

"And you're blonde, since we're stating obvious facts," Dean retorted. "What's your point?"

Mel rolled her eyes. "Look at us. We're sulking. Pouting like some little kids in a corner because things don't go our way. Things never go our way, guys. So why are we so depressed about it now?"

Emma sighed loudly and closed her book, too, all the mood for research gone now.

"Nice speech, Martin Luther King," she mumbled. "Inspiring, really."

"She does have a point," Sam hurried to jump to his girlfriend's defense, which surprised no one; Dean and Emma made sure to express that in a glare. "But, Mel, things really _are_ bad. And we're all tired. We're just out of an angel war and already involved in a pre-biblical one. I think I speak for all of us when I say it sucks that we don't get time to catch our breath."

While Mel could see his point, she refused to give in to the sulky mood again. She was making a statement today. So she leaned in on her elbows and narrowed her eyes at her friends.

"We're not the kind of people to catch our breaths, guys," she raised her voice. "Whining time ends tonight. We'll fix this PMS of yours the only way we know."

She paused for dramatics, three pairs of eyes watching her expectantly and a little bored and exhausted. Mel stood up from her chair and flipped her hair, smirking devilishly.

"Time to drink up, guys."

This brought back so many memories, which was part of why everyone had been so fast to agree. Dean had been the first one on his feet, high-fiving Mel, while Emma and Sam were groaning in the background and shaking their heads. But they had been on board with this, because last time Mel had suggested that had been quite memorable and had worked miracles with their bonding issues. Count on alcohol to break some ice.

In no time, they were in the Impala making their way to the closest bar, feeling more at ease than they'd been all week. In all honesty, they were all eager to blow off some steam. Dean and Melody pulled off another carpool karaoke on ' _Can't fight this feeling'_ for old times' sake, as they liked to put it, and for old times' sake, too, Emma and Sam groaned and complained their way through the song.

Soon enough, Dean parked the Impala in front of a shady bar and they all made their way inside eager to let all of their problems outside of the bar and to finally have some well-deserved fun.

As soon as they were seated, Dean hurried to order four shots of tequila.

"Easy, cowboy," Emma raised an eyebrow at him. "Shouldn't we start with something lighter?"

Mel snorted, but Dean seemed to have taken it to the heart.

"We ain't doing ' _light'_ tonight, short stuff," he grunted, pointing his finger at her. "Tonight, we get wasted."

Mel cheered, while Emma chuckled to herself at how much these two were alike. But the funny thing was, she wasn't even able to disagree. They all needed tonight to get a little wild. So when the bartender came with four shot glasses and a bottle of tequila, Emma stopped him before heading away from their table and she handed him a 20$ bill.

"Leave the bottle," she told him, and then tequila started pouring.

Sam tried to open his eyes, but as soon as his eyelids parted and sunlight crept in, he groaned, the world's greatest headache settling in. His muscles were sore and he felt the weight of another body against his.

What the hell, sunlight? Where the hell was he?

He forced his eyes open and hissed. He was in the backseat of the Impala and Melody was sleeping with her head on his lap, her feet crouched on the car's window, and Emma was on his right, sleeping on his shoulder and hugging him awkwardly. Sam nudged them both and they groaned simultaneously the same way he had just earlier.

The girls got up, grunting and holding their heads, and Sam finally noticed that Dean was sleeping sprawled on his tummy on both front seats, drooling on the leather. Sam nudged him with his foot and Dean woke up with a start.

"What?" Dean looked around confused. "What? What happened? What time is it?"

"What the hell happened last night?" Mel echoed.

"And why are we in the Impala?" Emma joined in.

Melody had been wrong last night. _Now_ they were walking messes. They looked like old people, voices broken, muscles sore, heads pounding. But Mel had asked the right question. _What the hell_ _ **had**_ _happened last night?_

"Anyone remember anything?" Sam mumbled, and the three of them shook their heads.

"I remember making it to the bar and buying the first bottle of tequila," Emma whispered, not daring to raise her voice above a whisper unless she wanted her brain to literally explode.

"I think I bought the next three ones," Dean admitted.

" _Three?_ Three more bottles?" Sam shrieked, making the rest groan in pain.

"Could've been more than that as far as we know," Mel said, and she might as well have been right. The four of them looked as if they'd drunk four bottles _each._

"Here's the deal," Emma suggested. "Let's drive back to the bunker and we'll figure it out after a pot of coffee. And I mean, a pot of coffee each. This hangover's gonna be worse than Lucifer, Raziel and Amara in one room."

Dean tried to chuckle, but stopped mid-way when he realized that moving his facial muscles too much hurt like a son of a bitch.

"Sam," he grunted. "Wanna drive? I don't think I can move without cringing."

Well, Sam couldn't either, but if Dean had willingly suggested than anyone apart from himself had to drive his Baby, then he clearly was in no state to drive. So he nodded and moved over Melody and out of the car, groaning all the way through the motions. Dean had moved into the passenger's seat and just before he opened the door to the driver's seat, Sam actually looked around.

He froze mid-movement.

"Umm, guys?" he called. Three voices groaned. "No, guys, you should see this. We _are_ back at the bunker."

" _Come on, Dean," Mel bumped him in the shoulder. "Never have I ever? What are we, 16 and horny?"_

 _Dean huffed. "Not every teenager who was 16 and horny got to play it, smart ass. Besides, we're not 16 and horny. We're old and drunk."_

 _Emma gulped down a shot. "Fair point.' Never have I ever it is'."_

" _That's ma girl," Dean winked at his girlfriend. "Come on, Rapunzel, spice it up. Show me what you've got."_

" _Oh, pretty eyes," Mel smirked. "You've got no idea what you got yourself into."_

"How _the fuck_ did I manage to drive us back to the bunker without crashing baby?" Dean threw himself on his bed. "We were all too wasted to even remember a thing. Who the hell let me drive in that state?"

The rest of them crashed with Dean in his bed, none of them feeling well enough to head towards their own rooms. They were all a pile of hungover grumps.

"No offense, Dean," Sam mumbled. "But I don't think any of us made particularly smart decisions last night."

After a few seconds of silence, the bed started shaking with Mel's chuckles.

"Wait, wait, I got a flashback," she said between giggles. "And you're more right about those smart decisions that you can know. Especially you, Sam. And Emma."

" _Hmm, what else, what else?" Melody chanted, well warmed up halfway through their second bottle of tequila. "Never have I ever… kissed a girl."_

 _Naturally, Sam and Dean chugged down a shot. The surprise came when Emma and Mel drank, too. The boys looked at them wide-eyed._

" _Now these are stories I wanna hear," Dean slurred, already a little dizzy, and Emma could practically hear his fantasies playing on a loop in his head. Men will be men._

 _Mel simply shrugged. "I was bored and curious," she stated simply._

 _Sam clicked his tongue, looking a little impressed and a little more turned on._

" _Can't say I'm surprised," he teased and Mel winked at him, enjoying the way he seemed to gulp. "But you, Emma?"_

 _Dean looked at her expectantly, no surprise in the fact that she was pretty much blushing her face off by now. Eventually, she cleared her voice and spoke._

" _Umm, freshman year of college," she started timidly. "My roommate was gay. And hot, you had to be blind not to notice, even I had to give her that. So since alcohol and I don't mix well, we had a little too much to drink one night and made out just a little bit." Three pairs of eyes looked at her incredulously, and she turned even redder, if possible. "Okay, we made out a lot. She got a girlfriend a week later and we never spoke of it again. It was a one-time thing, big deal."_

 _Sam and Melody were clearly enjoying it a little too much, laughing and cheering, but Emma felt Dean's eyes on her, hungry and a little impressed. He'd clearly want to hear more about this. Emma averted her eyes at first, but then she remembered. This was Dean, and she was drunk. So she looked into those green eyes of his again and held his gaze daringly, smiling smugly and as sexy as she could, already anticipating the make out session that waited for them at home. And gosh, how Dean enjoyed those little slips on Emma's behalf, those times when she broke character for a little while and revealed small wild parts of herself that were dormant within her and that only made him love her more. She was a treasure chest. And he felt like a pirate with a map on a quest to find more of those golden sides of her. Oh yeah, he had to get her drunk more often._

" _Guys, guys, guys," Mel gagged. "Please stop that. It's gross. And focus, it's Sam's turn."_

 _Sam chuckled and cleared his voice. "Okay, let me see. Umm, never have I ever… Hit on a guy in a bar."_

 _Mel and Emma drank, and Emma earned another pointed look from Dean. Also another story he'd have to hear, since the last time they'd been out and drinking, she had made a point about how she didn't like to pick up guys from bars. But he didn't have a chance to question her about it, because Mel gave Sam a look that usually meant trouble._

 _Then she broke into the most mischievous grin she could pull off._

" _Oh, Sammy," she chimed. "There's a first time for everything."_

 _Sam's eyebrows rose at the implications and Emma and Dean burst into obnoxious laughter. Then Melody stood up from her chair and took Sam's chin, turning his head so that he could look at a guy sitting two tables away. He was handsome and tough, the kind of guy who seemed confident in his masculinity. Melody couldn't have chosen a better and more dangerous target. Dean and Emma were nearly out of their chairs with laughter._

 _Sam gulped. "I walked straight into this one, didn't I?"_

 _Melody threw her head back laughing. "'Straight' isn't the words I'd use, Winchester. Now shut up and go get him, tiger."_

Emma was trying so hard to contain her laughter, because her head throbbed too much. But tears were already running down her face.

"That explains the black eye," she said between snickers.

"I've got a black eye?" Sam shrieked, touching the side of his face and hissing in pain. "That explains the soreness and the pain."

"Oh, no," Melody cut in. "The guy didn't punch him. Turns out he actually _was_ gay. Five minutes into the flirting and he got all handsy."

"Then how did I end up with a black eye?"

"I've got no idea," Mel chuckled tiredly.

"Wait, wait, flashback," Dean spoke, trying to smile and slapped his brother in the chest. "Dude, Mel gave you black eye."

 _The three of them stared and laughed hysterically at Sam's expression as the guy's hand slid up his leg. Mel could practically see the way his Adam's apple danced up and down as he was excusing himself. Well, wasn't this a plot twist._

" _Shouldn't we help him?" Emma was the first to feel a tinge of pity for poor Sam, but Dean snorted._

" _Ya kidding me? I'm so recording this."_

 _He pulled out his phone and set it on video, but Mel stood up, breathing in to stop her snickers._

" _No, I think I should save him," she told Dean, and she swore she heard him call her a 'party pooper' before she headed Sam's way._

 _Though when she said she wanted to save him, what she had in mind didn't actually involve saving him per se. In fact, she was pretty sure she was gonna make_ _it so much worse. So smiling to herself, she walked straight to Sam with an expression on her face that screamed rage and she grabbed him by the collar, pulling him from the chair._

" _You son of a bitch," she screamed, catching the attention of the entire bar. Sam's conquest stood, too, trying to understand what was going on._

" _W-What?" Sam looked at Melody wide-eyes, clearly caught off guard by whatever plan she had. "Melody? What are you—"_

 _She slapped him straight across the cheek, getting a little carried away with the story she'd made up._

" _How could you, Sam? I loved you. I trusted you. Wasn't it enough that you slept with my sister? Now you spend your nights in random bars, picking up_ _ **guys?**_ _I don't even recognize you, Sam."_

 _She pointed at Emma, sitting so shocked at their table that she couldn't even laugh, so Melody was grateful that the story was working so well for them. Sam was having a hard time recovering from the shock and he just stood there with his mouth open._

" _What is the meaning of this?" the guy Sam had tried to pick up spoke. "Sam, do you know this girl?"_

 _Sam opened and closed his mouth for a few times. "She's my, umm, I mean—"_

 _Before he could give an actual answer, he felt a fist landing straight into his left eye. Sam groaned in pain and lost his balance, falling to the floor. When he looked up, he saw Dean looming over him, biting his lip to fight back laughter, but still managing to look beyond angry. Could've almost fooled him._

" _Dean?" Sam grunted, rubbing his temple near the spot where Dean had struck him. This was getting out of control. "What the hell?"_

" _How could you, Sam?" Dean yelled, putting his arm around Mel's shoulders to fake comfort her. "We're brothers, Sam. And Emma's my_ _ **girlfriend.**_ _You've crossed a line."_

 _Sam got up on his feet just when the poor guy who was witnessing all that grabbed his jacket._

" _Look, man, you seemed like a nice guy and all that, but this is screwed up. I mean, you have a girlfriend, but you slept with her sister, who also happens to be your brother's girlfriend? Are you even gay?"_

 _Despite himself and how pissed he was at Mel and Dean for this whole mess, Sam had to crack a smile._

" _No, not really," he admitted, and the guy huffed and turned on his heels._

" _I'm outta here."_

 _As soon as the guy was out of the bar, Dean and Melody burst into violent laughter, holding their tummies and wiping away tears. Granted, this was the most fun they'd had in ages. Though he was giggling himself, Sam glared at Dean and pointed at his eye._

" _Was this really necessary?"_

 _Dean nodded vigorously. "Show must go on, Sammy."_

"Wait, I'm confused," Sam frowned; thinking made his head hurt even worse. "Who punched me, then?"

"Me," Dean admitted. "But Mel got a good slap, too."

Emma chuckled. "If this all happened halfway through the second bottle, I don't even wanna know what happened next. I mean, we know we've had at least four bottles. God knows what else we did."

Sam smiled a little. "I don't think I wanna know."

They all mumbled and grunted in unison, agreeing, and within minutes, silence followed and the four of them fell asleep in Dean's bed, piled on each other. Tomorrow, maybe they'd have to save the world. Again. It's what they did. But for now, they had a hangover to nurse. For today, evil would have to wait until the heroes took a well-deserved nap.

 **Okay, if you remember the chapter 'Drink up' from My Better Half, then you understand why I had to write this one. In a sitting. This is how much fun I've had. Sue me.**


	9. Home is a feeling

**CHAPTER 8 – HOME IS A FEELING**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Theory of a Deadman – Angel~**

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since the lead they got on Crowley, two weeks since that killer hangover, two weeks of nothing to keep her occupied. Melody was slowly losing her mind. They didn't hunt as much as they used to, considering they had to keep digging up dirt on the Darkness, so all the rush that Mel needed to keep functioning, to keep herself sane was bottled up deep inside, boiling and burying her soul under many layers of thick smoke. She was choking on air, her own body slowly betraying her.

She needed to get out of here.

She slowly unwrapped herself from Sam's arms and got up from the bed, looking over her shoulder at him to make sure he hadn't woken up. The sight knocked her dead every time. His hair was sprawled over his pillow, his bare chest rising with steady breaths. His lips were slightly parted and his closed lids hid those two green eyes that could stare so deep into her soul.

Which was why she was having such a hard time letting him look lately. She couldn't let Sam see how broken she was. She was usually the tough one, the one who held the team together, the one who showed up in battle yelling ' _Surprise, motherfuckers'_ at the last moment, the one who had knocked Sam Winchester out less than 24 hours into knowing him. She was stronger than this. Except she wasn't, not right now. But in order to keep the team steady, she had to find a way to be.

She got dressed quickly, willing herself to stop looking back over her shoulder at Sam. Part of her wanted him to wake up and ask her questions, ask her anything because she would've poured her soul out and let him reveal every wound, kiss every scar. But the other part of her knew she couldn't do that. Sam was still her safe haven and he had to stay that way. And one would never take the demons he fights outside under his roof and into the safety of his bedroom.

Melody was almost out the door when she instinctively glanced back one more time. She cursed herself for the weakness, but she couldn't help but imagine Sam waking up, again, without her by his side and worrying himself to madness until tomorrow. So with a sigh, she grabbed a post-it note and a pen and scribbled a few words before she could change her mind.

 _Had some errands to run. Be back tomorrow._

 _Love you, Mel_

She stuck the note on the pillow next to Sam and it took every ounce of self-control in her to stop herself from running her hands through his hair. But she turned on her heels and went out the door.

As soon as she found herself on Storm, the helmet in her hand, she pulled out her phone and dialed the only number she could right now. The only person she wasn't afraid to ask to walk her through the motions. The phone rang twice before he picked up.

"Blondie," Jace cheered, but Mel could tell by his tone that even his usual giddy self was tainted with worry. "Everything good?"

"Yeah," Mel answered a little breathlessly. "Yeah, all good. Just needed someone to talk to."

There was silent on the other end of the line for half a minute before she swore she heard Jace gulp and he replied.

"Where'd you wanna meet me?"

Half an hour later, Melody pulled Samantha in front of _Rodeo,_ the same shady bar where she'd met Jace a few months ago. The place looked as much of a mess as she remembered. It looked dirty and cheap and it smelled and all sorts of heated couples made out in dark alleys, on the hoods of cars, inside cars. But then again, bars weren't supposed to be pretty.

In the same parking lot, a few feet away, stood Jace, leaning against his motorcycle with his hands shoved in his pocket. Wind played with his hair, sending it flying in all directions and, while she loved Sam in ways words could not cover, a little part of Mel had to admit Jace was one attractive son of a bitch.

"Hiya, blondie," he smirked as soon as she took off her helmet. "Feeling nostalgic, are we?"

Melody rolled her eyes. For some reason, she no longer felt the need to punch him every time he came up with some smart ass comment. In fact, she'd grown quite used to it.

"Don't flatter yourself, angel boy," she winked. "I just needed someone to play pool with. And, well, since it's not like you've got anything better to do…"

She trailed off and was surprised to see that Jace actually looked offended.

"Excuse you, golden girl. Friendly reminder that I happen to lead an army of fallen angels."

Mel pursed her lips against a smile. "Right, right. Also walking on water and helping end hunger in Africa during the weekends."

Jace rolled his eyes and moved past her to enter the bar. Melody actually chuckled at his pouty mood and was quick to follow him inside. The bar wasn't too crowded tonight and they quickly spotted a vacant pool table. They grabbed two beers, picked their cues and Jace racked the balls.

"Wanna break?" he asked Mel, and she simply shrugged and moved to break.

Perhaps she should've warned Jace that she was the world's crappiest pool player, because when none of those stupid balls made it into any of those stupid holes, he burst into obnoxious laughter, throwing his head back and shoulders shaking. Melody glared.

"Hey, I said I wanted to play pool," she defended. "I never said I was any good at it."

Jace was still snickering when he answered. "That's what you little humans like to call an understatement, blondie."

"Shut up," Melody punched him in the shoulder lightly, but smiling herself.

After that first round of pool that Jace won by a long shot, he went a little easier on her during their second game, even showing her a few moves.

This was simple and light-hearted, Melody thought. She needed simple and light-hearted right now, and Jace had surprisingly enough managed to give her this much. He didn't judge her for picking up pieces of herself and trying to hold them together and, while she knew that her friends wouldn't, either, he was the one who also understood. He got it. And she didn't know how or why, but it made such an incredible difference.

And yet, for a few minutes towards the end, Melody felt a little tension between them and between his shoulders as he moved, she saw him biting his lip as if struggling to either let out or to keep in some words, until she couldn't take it anymore.

"Okay, what it is?" she snapped.

"What?" Jace played dumb, and she glared at him.

"You're fidgeting, Jace, and it's getting on my nerves. What is it?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Melody, are you okay?"

Mel felt her eyebrows rise in shock. "I didn't know we were on first names basis now. _Again._ Am I grounded, mom?"

"I'm serious."

"I know," Melody mumbled at him. "That's the problem. You never are."

"Look, Melody," he sighed again, exasperated. "You called me here because you needed someone to talk to. So talk. I wanna help you, that's why I got on this ride with you. But I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

Melody leaned on her cue, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

"I thought I needed to talk," she admitted. "I wanted so badly to talk. About anything. About whatever it is that's eating me up."

"And what changed?" Jace inquired and she shrugged.

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know. I can't speak of things I don't understand. And there's stuff going on with me that I still don't understand. Ugh, I don't know, Jace. I hope that, once we get to the bottom of it all and I'll have thrown my punches, it'll all go away. The rage, the nightmares, this darkness and these shadows. I just want it to be over."

She had no idea why she was telling Jace all this. Jace, an angel, part of a race she had been on the run from for five years. Jace, sassy Jace, fun Jace, careless Jace. Jace, a guy she barely knew, as opposed to the man she loved and slept next to every night. But she let the words flow and fill the air between them and was surprised to see that Jace caught each of those words mid-air and took them to the heart. So when he spoke so serious and intense, Mel could barely hide her surprise.

"It's never gonna be easier, Mel. You may be chasing pavements here. Are you sure you wanna go through with it all?"

She clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white and when she spoke, rage was evident in her voice.

"You bet I am."

"Thought so," Jace clicked his tongue. "But you gotta know it won't make anything better, blondie. Sure, it'll feel good to get some sort of closure. But healing, moving on and getting over it, that's all up to you. And you gotta draw that line."

He sighed and bit his lip, as if there was something he meant to say and didn't know how. Eventually, he set his cue on the pool table and moved closer to Mel, all amusement gone from his face now.

"Look, Mel. You wanted me to fight this war with you. And I agreed to. But I think you need some sort of almighty soldier who's first in line, cutting and breaking and slaying. And I don't think I can be that for you. Whatever freedom you're after, I don't think I can give it to you."

He lowered his gaze, a little embarrassed for having let out such a big piece of his mind. Melody watched him with wide eyes and she opened and closed her mouth a few times, not knowing how to react. She'd never seen Jace so stripped of… what made him Jace. She had no idea under the fifteen layers of sarcasm and stupid jokes laid a core so fiery and intense.

"Why?" she blurted out eventually. "And I don't mean why tell me this now, because I can see that happening. The past few weeks haven't been that peachy. I mean, why walk into this whole mess in the first place? We helped each other out in the angel war, so you had no debt towards me. Why join my pointless crusades?"

Jace rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, clearly regretting having started this conversation and letting himself get dragged into some feelsy talks.

"I don't know," he mumbled, the cleared his voice and repeated. "I don't know. I've got no idea why I chose to help you. It's been a long time since I've cared for humans, Melody. All I know is, when I heard that you went to hell, it reminded me how fragile humanity is. How fragile you are. And I can't understand exactly why, but that was the moment I told myself, _'I can't let her get hurt'_. I had to keep you safe. And if you ever repeat this, I'm going to deny it for as long as I live, but you're the only person I care about. I won't let you get hurt again."

Melody breathed in. Then out. He was looking at her with a mixture of feelings she couldn't quite place and even if her human eyes couldn't see it, she could practically feel his grace resonating with her presence, making emotions seem so physical and palpable. In the end, she felt her lips curl into a soft smile as she gazed up at him.

"Very well, then, soft angel boy," she said, and Jace groaned at the new nickname; now he'd never live it down. "I think that pretty much qualifies you to be whatever soldier you think you need to be."

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Jetta – Feels like coming home~**

The past two weeks had taken their toll on Dean, too. He and Emma pretended they were good and that they weren't as affected by the encounter with Amara as they really were. But truth was, something had snapped between them. And it had a lot to do with the fact that he was lying to her. It was the Winchester vicious cycle.

 _There's nothing to worry about._

 _We'll fix this._

So many lies.

Nothing was okay and fixable and there was so much to worry about. Whatever they had ever been meant to face, they'd beaten because they could trust themselves and that they'd do all they could to stop it. But how can you face a threat without knowing if you can bring yourself to finish the job? How could he reassure Emma when he wasn't so sure himself that he could snap out of Amara's influence?

That night, Dean slipped out of bed and hit a bar. God, there's been so long since he'd done something like that. Ever since he'd met Emma, he hadn't felt the need to. He despised the times when he soaked his sorrows in alcohol and he let himself drown in self-pity and loneliness. He'd had no more need for self-pity in loneliness the minute she'd walked into his life and filled every blank spot with her light. And quite literally, at that.

Dean sat at the bar and ordered a neat scotch. As he chugged it down and ordered a second one, he kept thinking about it. Yes, Emma's light had literally shoved the Darkness out of him. And a new bond had been tied between the two of them, so solid and so deeply tattooed into his soul that he'd had the arrogance to believe it was permanent and unshakeable. How truly dumb of him.

Emma had shoved out the Darkness, but they had all been oblivious to one thing. Dean had been there. Part of it. Bathing in it. In the dark and in the evil. Even now, as he was cleansed of it, he could still feel the spots where its claws had dug into his flesh, into his core. There was no escaping it.

Dean drank half a bottle of scotch that night. He kept trying to figure it all out and failed miserably each and every time. One thing he knew for sure. He'd have to sit down Emma and talk this through, because if he was certain of something, he was certain that he couldn't get through this without her.

It was well past 3 am when he made it back to the bunker, stumbling on his feet. He hoped Emma wouldn't see him in this condition, or he'd be in for a good scolding, too. He walked down the hallway as silent as he could until he made it back to his room. He pushed the door open and cursed it to hell and back for the way it creaked.

But when he walked inside, he saw that it hadn't woken Emma up.

He stopped dead.

He stopped breathing.

He stopped mid-movement.

Why was it that, for some reason, despite all of the curses that had been thrown at them and despite all the hell – literal and whatnots – they'd been through, he'd somehow been blessed this sight? This painting, at 3 in the morning, in his room. Was he truly granted this reward?

Sprawled all over his bed slept Emma, one leg thrown out of the blanket, on her tummy and hugging a pillow. Sure, the picture knocked him dumb every time he saw it, but the fact that she was wearing one of his T-shirts took Dean's heart straight out of his chest and laid it under her pillow for safe-keeping.

He let out a heavy breath and shrugged off his jacket. He changed out of his clothes stinking of cheap whisky and dirty bars and sneaked into bed next to her. She mumbled something in her sleep than Dean didn't understand, but he chuckled anyway and pulled her to his chest. Emma complied, snuggling into his side like a kitten. His shirt hugged her body in ways that sent Dean's head spinning and she smelled like vanilla and she smelled like him. God, it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

And sitting there, at 2 in the morning, with her head on his chest and with his shirt on her, Dean felt like home for the first time in so long. Too long. She was his home. Whatever followed, he had to keep hold of that. It would get ugly, and he didn't have everything figured out, but there was no one who he'd have rather figured it out with.


	10. A little unsteady

**CHAPTER 9 – A LITTLE UNSTEADY**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: X Ambassadors – Unsteady~**

 _Dean._

 _Come to me._

Dean opened his eyes. He could vaguely tell his sight was altered, because he wasn't exactly aware of his physical surroundings. All he saw before his eyes was red hair and black dress and bare feet and a Mark sunk deep into the flesh over a collar bone. And smoke. So much smoke.

 _Dean._

 _Come to me._

So dark. And her, in the middle of it, owning it.

 _Dean._

 _Come to me._

Her voice pierced Dean's skull and made every corner of his mind vibrate along with it.

He got up from the bed. He felt slight shifting of the mattress in the background, but he couldn't be bothered by it. For now, he had one sole purpose and one purpose only.

 _Dean._

 _Come to me._

He had to go to her.

Emma woke up when she felt the bed moving. She groaned and extended her arm expecting it to meet Dean's chest. But instead, it only met an empty side of the bed. She opened her eyes slightly and saw Dean standing up by the bed, his back turned to her.

"Dean?" she whispered in the dark. "What's wrong?"

When he didn't reply, Emma sat up from the bed, rubbing her eyes. Yet he seemed to barely acknowledge her presence. Her gut warned her. There was something wrong with Dean. Gulping, Emma stood and fastened his gray bath robe around herself, then she moved to stand in front of him.

Her breath hitched. Dean wasn't even looking at her. He kept staring straight ahead, his eyes blank and his expression stripped of any kind of emotion. Emma tentatively put a hand on his forearm.

"Dean?"

"I have to go," he hurried to say as soon as he felt her touch.

Emma drew in a sharp breath. His voice sounded so empty, so robotic, as if the words rolling off his tongue weren't even his to begin with.

"Dean," she pleaded. "It's the middle of the night. Come back to bed."

"I have to go," he repeated, just as empty.

"Wherever you wanna go, it can until tomorrow morning. I'll go with you, I promise. Just please, come back to bed."

But no muscle in Dean's face even twitched. He kept staring right through her, as if he hadn't even heard a word she'd said and, eventually, he started moving past her.

"I have to go," he kept saying the words like a mantra. "I have to go. She's waiting for me."

 _Dean._

 _Come to me._

He was going.

 _Dean._

 _Come to me._

He focused on her voice. He didn't know where he was headed, but he'd find her. They were meant to be together. He just kept going forward.

 _Dean._

 _Come to me._

The smoke never cleared. It filled his lungs and blinded him, but he went through it, letting it choke him, knowing it sheltered her. And from the thickness of the gray darkness, her voice rang clear as bells.

 _Dean._

 _Come to me._

Dean was walking down the hallway and Emma hurried after him. Somehow, she knew this weird trance of his had everything to do with Amara and her toxic influence on Dean, her way of hypnotizing him and making him so susceptible to her will.

"Dean!" Emma called after him, but he gave no sign of having heard her.

She put herself in his path, but he kept walking past her as if she wasn't even there. Emma ran a hand through her hair in despair.

Was he really this far gone?

 _Dean._

 _Come to me._

He felt hands tugging at his clothes, he heard a voice, a different voice, begging him to stay. But none of it mattered.

 _Dean._

 _Come to me._

She was waiting for him.

Emma kept pulling him back, kept tugging at his shirt, kept pinching, hitting, yelling at him to snap out of it. He didn't. It was as if he wanted to walk right through her. He took step after step, ignoring Emma's attempts to get through to him.

"Dean!" she kept yelling. "Dean, hear me out, please. It's me. Dean!"

 _Dean._

 _Come to me._

"Dean! Stay with me!"

His steps faltered for just one second. Just one second of slight hesitation. Emma didn't waste a single breath and threw herself at him, her arms hugging his muscular torso, shaking and sobbing.

"Dean," she whispered in his chest. "Please."

And just when she thought all hope was lost or that he'd throw her into a wall and head off to Amara anyway, it happened. He tensed and, tentatively, Dean raised his shaky arms and placed them around Emma's shoulders with a sharp intake of breath. Emma gasped and looked up at him.

"Emma," he whispered into her hair, his body relaxing, and by his haunted expression, she could tell he remembered every second of this damned sleepwalk.

"Dean," she grabbed fistful of his shirt trying to hide her unsteady hands.

"I know," he kissed the top of her head, and his kiss felt a little too much like despair. "I know, Em. I'm so sorry."

"Let's go back to bed," Emma surprised herself with the fierceness in her voice. "We really need to talk. And you're gonna tell me exactly what's going on with you, Dean. No excuses."

So that night, Dean told her everything.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Jill Andrews – Lost it all~**

Melody walked inside the bunker on her tiptoes, hoping she could sneak back into bed without drawing too much attention to her arriving at the crack of dawn. Stinking of alcohol and guilt.

"Melody."

She flinched and turned around, a hand over her chest.

"Shit, Sam, you scared me. What are you doing here so early?"

Sam was sitting in the library with a half-drunk coffee pot next to him and a dozen open books next to him. There were dark circles under his eyes and his lips were pursed in that thin line that usually meant he was pissed and that she was in trouble. Oh, boy, was this gonna get ugly for her.

"Couldn't sleep," he told her sharply, closing a book he was reading with a loud thud. "I noticed you were gone, found your note, then worried myself sick for half the night."

Oh yeah. He was definitely pissed. Mel gulped.

"Sorry," she mumbled a half-assed apology and moved to turn around and leave.

"Sorry?" he jumped to his feet, extending his arms incredulously; she should've known she wasn't getting away so easy. "Sorry doesn't begin to cover it, Melody. Sorry doesn't cut it."

"Then what do you want me to say, Sam?" she screamed back. "We talked about this. You said you were okay with it."

Sam ran his hands over his face. Yes. He had said that. He had really thought he was okay with her finding some answers on her own terms. But disappearing in the middle of the night? Repeatedly? With not as much as an explanation? Missing for days? He couldn't be okay with that. He had _not_ signed up for this. He considered his next move. Should he stand by his word and give her that freedom she craved her much? What could guarantee him that this freedom wouldn't end up with him losing her for good?

No. He couldn't afford that. The games were over.

He turned around to the chair next to the one he'd been sitting on and took a cloth in his hands. As he moved closer to Melody, he pulled a bloody angel blade from the cloth. Melody swallowed hard.

"I found this in your closet," Sam spoke in a broken voice, as if willing her to offer an explanation that could justify it all without putting her in a bad place; it was clear on her expression she didn't have one. "And I also found a pile of your clothes covered in blood. I think you're overdue for an explanation, Melody. You've had enough time to play."

She wanted to yell at him. She wanted to summon the same arguments she'd given him for weeks now. That she wanted space. That she wanted answers. That she needed time. But somehow, even to her, it all started to sound like a really weak-ass excuse. Like an ugly tantrum.

"I've given you time and space to grieve, Mel," Sam lowered his voice. "To grieve what you lost to hell. I've let you be sad on your own terms."

"That's right," she cut in. "But I'm not sad, Sam. Grieving time is over. Now there's just anger. That's all there's left."

Sam nodded, but it was clear to both of them that the explanation she offered was not satisfying. Even she could tell that much. Eventually, Sam put the bloody blade on the table and lowered his gaze. Melody clenched her jaw. The blade sat between them, teasing and rolling the silence around its blade, until Mel cracked and spoke first.

"I've been hunting demons. Torturing them for answers."

There. The words were out. She didn't dare to look up at Sam, afraid of what she might have found in his eyes. Judgment? Shame? Disappointment? When she couldn't take the silence anymore, she raised her gaze, just to find Sam staring back at her, his expression unreadable. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down and he looked like he was on the verge of saying something, but he didn't know how to voice the words.

"Alone?" he asked eventually.

Melody could tell, by the way he'd phrased the question, that he already knew the answer. She had no idea how he could suspect it, but she assumed her guilty eyes gave her away enough. She considered lying to him. Again. But she couldn't. She couldn't take this chain of lies anymore, and she knew that, if she kept adding lie after lie to the chain, this same chain would turn into shackles around her wrists that would cage her away from the man she loved. So she opened her mouth and let it out.

"No," the word rang through the library, hitting Sam in the ribs and knocking the air out of his lungs. "With Jace."

He exhaled sharply. He ran his hands over his face again and it occurred to Mel she'd never seen him so tired. He turned away from her and paced back and forth while she waited to be scolded like a little kid who broke mom's favorite vase. Except she hadn't. She had only broken Sam's trust in her. Maybe for good. And even now, their relationship hanging by a thread, she knew that, given the chance, she would've made the same stupid decisions over and over again.

"With Jace," Sam repeated eventually, his voice filled with venom. "Once again. Once again, instead of confiding in me and asking for my help, you go to an angel." He raised his voice and Mel found herself backing away from him. "An angel, Melody. You chose an angel over me, _again._ Was it even worth it? Were your answers freaking worth this cost?"

"Sam—"

"No, Melody, let me tell you what the cost was!"

"I freaking know what the cost was," she cut him off, yelling back. "I know. I just—"

"Me!" Sam screamed, and Mel fell speechless. "It cost you me. You should have come to me, Melody, because I would've had your back. Not Jace. No one else. _Me._ I should have been there for you and I'm sorry that it wasn't enough for you."

"You were," she tried to back down, to reason with him, to argue, but she felt him slowly slipping out of her grasp. "Sam, you are. But I just—"

"I wasn't," Sam kept shouting. "And you can't tell me otherwise, Melody. Not when your actions speak for themselves. Because you're not supposed to remind people that they love you."

His words hit like a knife, sinking deep into her gut.

 _Because you're not supposed to remind people that they love you._

 _You're not supposed to remind people that they love you…_

… _supposed to remind people that they love you…_

… _remind people that they love you…_

Their weight crushed Melody under a pile of stupid choices and thrown blames. She wiped away the tears she had no idea had fallen down her cheeks. She wiped them away angrily and stared at Sam. He stared right back, standing by his words. Because once they're out, you can't claim them back. And the longer they lingered in the air between them, the deeper they cut, the hotter she felt them burn into her flesh. Her head was spinning, filled with a storm cloud, and from it kept falling hurricanes of words, of phrases, of things they'd whispered lips over lips, things they'd whispered in the darkness of their bedroom, on the doorstep of the bunker when she returned from hell, in the rain where they'd shared their first kiss.

And as a thunder, it all ended with the same conclusion.

 _You're not supposed to remind people that they love you._

How had they fallen so low?

"Guys," Mel heard Emma behind her, her voice sleepy. "It's the crack of dawn. What the hell are you doing?"

Mel sniffed and tried to pull herself together just as she heard Dean's voice, too.

"What the—" he groaned. "What's with all the screaming so fucking early in the morning? We heard you from the other side of the bunker."

Mel kept her eyes on Sam the whole time. And because she was dumb like that, she shot another poisoned dagger out of her mouth at him.

"That," she spoke in a hoarse voice, then cleared her voice before continuing. "That was the sound of me and Sam crying 'uncle' and giving up. I'm out of here."

Without waiting to see the aftermath of her words, she turned on her heels and left.

 **Oops. Sorry, guys.**


	11. Things we've lost in the fire

**CHAPTER 10 – THINGS WE'VE LOST IN THE FIRE**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Tim McGraw and Taylor Swift – Highway don't care~**

Melody sped down the highway and the helmet was the only thing between her and the wind begging to be felt across her cheeks. Her face was soaked and she was vaguely aware of the fact that she was crying. All she wanted was to go back, to seek the solace of Sam's arms again, to hide in the safety of his chest, but instead, she kept racing and racing and going forward down that highway of guilt.

She could name every single mistake she'd done for the past months since she'd returned from hell. It had been like turning around and walking backwards. With your eyes closed. Towards a cliff. And yet, expecting to survive the fall.

She sped up even more. She had no idea where she was going. She just knew she had to keep going.

 _Were your answers freaking worth this cost?_

Were they? Had they been worth it? For the first time in months, she felt as if she finally had someone to blame and someone to make pay for all that she'd lost in hell. Most of her humanity. The authenticity of her smiles. Her priorities. Trust. Sam. Had these answers been worth losing Sam?

 _It cost you me._

No. Nothing was worth him. God, she'd been so stupid. She was on the verge of losing Sam, all for chasing some crazy revenge fantasy. And she should've known better. When something's bound to go wrong, it's always gonna go wrong. Her answers had cost her Sam.

 _I'm sorry that it wasn't enough for you._

She kept speeding up, the smell of burned wheels following her.

How could she argue with him on that one? How could she explain to him that he was enough and a little more than that and all she could've ever hoped for, but that it was her who was incomplete? How could she tell him that it didn't feel right to let him love her for both of them when she had nothing but broken pieces to lie on the table?

 _You're not supposed to remind people that they love you._

That last blow. The sound of letting go. The hitting of breaks one second too late, when the car has already flown over the edge. The click of a trigger being pulled and the bullet piercing through flesh. That first spark that ignites it all before everything goes up in flames. Running out of breath right before saying 'I love you'. The knowledge your 'I love you's are counted. The smell of rain mingled in her hair even now, teasing her about their first night together, about their first kiss; even now, during their last one.

 _That was the sound of me and Sam crying 'uncle'. I'm out of here._

And even now, one more stupid decision.

She turned the bike around and headed to the motel where she knew she could find Jace.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Hinder – Lips of an angel (cover by Morgan Frazier, studio version)~**

"Blondie," Jace exclaimed when he opened the door and found Melody standing before him. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going back to the bunker."

Melody sniffed and cleared her throat, hating the way she felt weaker than ever.

"I did," she muttered, her voice still breaking a little. "Can I come in?"

Jace studied her for a second. Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks were flustered. She was clearly not okay. Her clothes were soaked in rain, as well as her hair, and yet she looked so freaking gorgeous. A beautiful disaster, he thought with a bitter smile as he moved away and let her walk inside.

She took a seat on the bed of that dirty motel room, looking around. Jace was a little embarrassed to have her here under these circumstances, but ever since they'd started hunting down demons together, disgusting motels had become a regular for him, what with being caught between Melody and a whole freaking army of fallen angels scattered all around the country. And yet somehow, whenever Mel called, he rushed to her help. It was weird like that. He hadn't given a worthless penny about human problems for a long, long time now, but he was ready to fight Melody's wars. He'd meant what he'd told her last night about wanting to keep her safe.

He offered her a beer that she took wordlessly from his hand and took a few sips of.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked after a few minutes of utter silence.

Mel shrugged. "Not really."

Jace sighed and ran a hand through his hair. If this woman had just stopped being so confusing and frustrating, it would've been great.

"Then why are you here, Melody?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.

She pursed her lips and got up from the bed, placing the beer on the table and trying to tame down a few wet curls from her hair. She let out a shaky breath.

"I don't know."

Her words hung between them for a second. Jace didn't know what to make of them. What did it mean? What was he to her then? Mel opened and closed her mouth for a few times, trying to make up her mind as to how to put it into words. Eventually, she broke the silence.

"Sam and I had an ugly fight. We, umm, we said things. And from where I'm standing, it doesn't look that good between us right now. And I don't know, I guess I needed someone to talk to."

Jace sighed. Again with speaking and not saying anything at all really. He bit his lip.

"That's twice you've told me that, blondie. It still doesn't explain why you're here. Do I look like a relationship therapist to you?"

Melody threw her hands in the air in exasperation.

"No, Jace. I didn't come to you looking for relationship advice." She took a few steps forward until she was standing right before him. "I came to you because… Fine, so maybe I don't exactly know why either. But these past weeks, you've been here for me and when I was speeding down the highway crying, this was the only thing I could think about. When everything else started feeling shaky, you were there for me. Steady. So I was hoping I could come here and find that."

She was inches from him, standing in front of him soaked in rain and drowned in confusion, and Jace needed a second to pull himself together. When had this happened? When had his will become so bendable in her hands? When had he stopped seeing her as leverage, as a means to an end, but as a girl who needed his help and his protection? The realization knocked the air out of his lungs. And he knew that if he didn't act on it now, he may never get to do so.

So without thinking twice, he reached forward and cupped her cheeks in his palms, crushing their lips together. His grace hummed and tingled within his whole body, concentrating on his lips and enhancing the feeling of her mouth against his. And whatever doors he had locked centuries ago, this kiss knocked them all open and every human feeling he'd long since forgotten came flooding back to him.

Melody was frozen. It had taken her completely aback, and at first, she was unable to react. All she knew was Jace's lips moving softly, steadily against hers and for a second, her instinct kicked in and she closed her eyes, letting out a sharp breath. Jace took it as an encouragement and he wrapped his arms around her waist, trying to pull her closer.

And then it snapped. Like a switch being flipped. She was kissing Jace.

Her eyes flew opened and she placed her hands on his chest, pushing him away. He stumbled backwards, lips swollen and breathing heavily, looking at her with wide eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mel yelled at him.

"I-I thought—"

"Jace, I love Sam," Mel hurried to clarify, lowering her voice, and she saw the angel's face fall a little. "I didn't come here to hook up with you so that I could get back at him. I'm sorry if you thought otherwise."

Jace stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to grin and shrug it off, but the tension gathered in his shoulders gave him away. How could she have missed this? How could she not have noticed that Jace was starting to have feelings for her?

"Honest mistake," he tried to joke, and Mel's shoulders dropped.

"Look, Jace," she sat on his bed, running a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry if the lines started getting blurred between us. I care about you, I do. And I'm insanely grateful for what you've done for me. But I love Sam. He and I may be going through a rough patch, but we'll work it out. I could never give up on him."

Jace cracked half a smile and sat next to her.

"Well, what can I say?" he shrugged and nudged her with his shoulder. "It's your loss, I guess. I care about you, too, blondie. A lot."

He looked down, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink, and Mel could tell there was more of ' _a lot'_ than his ' _a lot'_ let through.

"Needless to say," he added, smirking a little. "Most girls would sell a kidney to get a piece of this fine ass."

Mel chuckled and he paused, looking sideways at her with a mixture of sadness and incredulousness, laced with something that Mel couldn't quite put her finger on, though it made him finally look the part – an ancient angel who'd lived for so many centuries.

"But you're not like most girls, are you?" he concluded, and Mel averted her gaze.

"I'm afraid not," she smiled tentatively. "For starters, if you ever try to kiss me again, angel or not, I will punch you in the face."

Her words finally cracked him and he burst out laughing.

"Fair point," he said, then he stood up from the bed. "Awkward moment averted. Now let's go, blondie. The night's young and there's something you should see."

Mel cocked an eyebrow. "You're gonna take me star-gazing, angel boy?"

He shrugged one shoulder and Mel felt like slapping the back of his head.

"Oh my God," she groaned. "You are."

"Shut up," Jace mumbled and rubbed his neck awkwardly. "You killed the moment."

Mel chuckled. "Sure, sure. Whatever helps your centuries-old masculinity."

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Parson James – Waiting game~**

That night, before Mel and Sam's fight, Emma and Dean sat down and he told her everything. Like, everything. About the nightmares, about Amara getting into his head and asking him to go to her. About the insatiable hunger for her, and he tried so hard not to take Emma's face falling and the pain in her eyes too personal. He told her about how he couldn't bring himself to kill her. They discussed theories, they talked about solutions, and he realized he was actually grateful he had opened up to Emma about this. Yeah, sure, two heads think better than one.

But it wasn't just about how well they could figure it out together. It was more about letting her in on his very personal nightmares. For the first time since she'd broke the seal of the Mark of Cain with her grace, he felt as if she was marching her light down the hallways of his soul and lit up every corner. It felt good. There's a big difference between walking through hell alone and waltzing on burning coals with the one person who can save you from yourself.

After the big fight and Melody leaving the bunker, leaving behind ashes instead of footsteps, Sam locked himself in his bunker and Dean knew his brother well enough to know he needed to be alone for now. He trusted those two chuckleheads would find a way to work things out. And seeing as Emma's expression mirrored his, she was thinking the same thing. They did have bigger fish to fry.

"So what's our next move?" he asked her as he placed a cup of coffee in front of her in the library.

Emma smiled up at him, he kissed the top of her head and then he sat in front of her with his own cup of coffee. They had brought out their laptops and about a dozen books. They needed whatever dirt they could dig up on Amara.

"Well," Emma played with a strand of her hair awkwardly. "Don't bite my head off for saying this." He was gonna bite her head off for saying this. "But I don't think there should be an 'our move'."

Dean frowned at her as the words registered. When realization hit him, he clenched his jaw.

"Emma—"

"No, Dean, hear me out. What we know so far is that Amara is taking advantage of whatever connection is between the two of you to manipulate you. We can't afford that happening on the field, can we? If she manages to turn you against me, we're lost. We've got no idea in which ways she can exploit the bond."

Dean pursed his lips. "I get it. I'm a liability, so I stay behind."

"Dean, you're not a—"

"I know I am," he argued, but he stayed calm; he wasn't blaming her for saying so, he was just stating the facts. "I got it loud and clear. Amara can use me against you. But then what do we do?"

Emma smiled sadly at him. She wished so badly that things were different. She couldn't stand seeing him so helpless, his hands tied behind his back so that she had to deny him the right to fight back the monster that tormented him. Emma saw the struggle in him. He was stuck between wanting to protect her, to make it all better, and the knowledge that he could be used to make it all worse.

She turned her laptop towards him.

"Get this," she got into strategy mode. "Amara's been sighted. There was a park where fountains started spouting out blood and then, suddenly, every member of a congregation that was preaching there was struck by lightning. Also, there was quite the slaughtering in a church nearby. The police have confirmed from witnesses that an unknown woman was talking to the priest who had his neck snapped."

"You think it's Amara?"

"Must be her," Emma confirmed. "It's a long shot to say it's a coincidence and it does sound like it's her style."

"Right," Dean mumbled. "So what's the word? How do we act?"

" _I_ am going to go down there and do a check on the perimeter," Emma stated. "You're gonna stay here with Sam, in case Mel shows up. Don't let them do anything stupid."

Dean stood up, a hardness to his features that Emma recognized. She anticipated a long talk about this that would end up with her losing.

" _We_ are going down there," Dean corrected and hurried to continue before Emma got a chance to talk back. "Sam and Mel are grown-ups that can damn well solve their own problems. And I won't say it again, Emma. I'll tail you in case things go wrong, at least. But I ain't letting you go against Amara by yourself. Now that we know she'd obsessed with me, it's clear that her beef's with you. And I ain't taking chances about this."

Emma stood up, too, pacing and she considered. And then reconsidered. And reconsidered some more. She knew he couldn't be talked out of this. He was stubborn like that. But was it wrong of her to not even want to turn him around?

"Okay," she mumbled and rested a palm on his cheek. His eyebrows rose up in surprise.

"Okay?"

"Yeah," Emma shot him a half smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I don't have it in me to argue with you about this. It's not gonna be easy and God, there are so many things that can go wrong. But we'll figure it out. We're in this together, at last. I'd say that ought to count for something."

Dean placed his hand over hers and turned his head so that he could kiss the back of her hand, smiling warmly. This woman. In all of his years of hunting, he would've never believed he could find this kind of grounding in someone else, especially a woman, especially a hunter. But in hindsight, he now knew it had all been just a series of events leading to meeting her, to loving her. It had all been a waiting game. One that had led to her.

"Ain't that right," his smile widened against her palm and they both reached in for a hug. And in each other's arms they found solace.

 **Hey, you guys. I just wanted to let you know that I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update from now on, considering my finals are just around the corner. I'll do my best to at least write a little during weekends, but I make no promises, so I just wanted to give you the heads up.**

 **In the meantime, remember to check my Tumblr if you're interested in seeing those Dean & Emma, Sam & Mel, Jace & Mel (I low-key ship it, sue me) videos I keep rambling about, you can find me at supernatural-fanfictional.**

 **And just in case you get bored while waiting for an update and you happen to be into fantasy stories (spoiler alert-DRAGONS AND HOT HOT PIRATES)** , **check out my original story,** _ **Smoke and Mirrors.**_ **You can find it on fictionpress under the username diane sky.**

 **Okay, that'll be all. Love you guys,**

 **xoxo**


	12. I saw a lion kiss a deer

**CHAPTER 11 – I SAW A LION KISS A DEER**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Adam Levine – Lost stars~**

"I honestly thought you were kidding about star gazing," Mel wrinkled her nose, and Jace rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"It sounded like a good plan in my head."

Melody couldn't help but snicker. He looked genuinely distressed. That kiss they'd shared back at the motel still hung above them in the form of a faint blush coloring Jace's cheeks. He couldn't believe he'd done that. He was an angel, hundreds of years old, he had power that could strike down worthless humans. And there he was, acting like a clueless teenager. Melody was with Sam and they loved each other, and Jace had truly believed he could put his own feelings behind him and at least be a good friend. Yes, he could handle that. Except he hadn't. He'd underestimated the extents to which this little human had grown on him. Even broken as she was these days, all trauma and murder to her actions, there was still color to her being. Her aura was shallow and a little faded, but it was far from being the gray that the Mark of Cain had tainted Dean's with. There were still streaks of deep, reassuring blue. And every now and then, if he was lucky, Melody would turn to him and would shot him that smile of hers, with her mouth only half lifted as if she was letting him on a secret. And her aura deepened and Jace felt the edged of the blue caressing him skin, reaching out to him. Perhaps there was too much of Sam between them. Perhaps there was no 'them'. But he knew that the connection, the pull towards Melody Bennett was strong enough and that it was real. That, there was no denying.

Melody didn't hold that kiss against him. She'd felt the connection, too. She'd grown close to Jace in the past few weeks and, surprisingly enough, he'd proved to be a reliable friend. She could see why his feelings would tend to get mixed up. After all, she _had_ turned to him instead of turning to her boyfriend, and she could understand why that would send a wrong message. Perhaps in another life, in another reality in which her life hadn't been blessed with the existence of Sam Winchester, she and Jace might have stood a chance. But Sam was real, and so was the way she loved him. And Jace was stuck in this mess of mixed up feelings.

She let out a shaky breath and made up her mind to make things better between them. If only to get rid of this weird tension lingering. They had left their bikes back at the motel and had taken Jace's car. The ride had been tense and rather quiet and, eventually, Jace pulled over on the edge of a road, by the woods. The place was remote and it looked randomly chosen, but as Mel climbed out of the car, it caught her attention that there was no light pollution. It was dark enough that you could count the stars one by one.

She shot a grin at Jace and sat on the hood of the car, leaning back on her hands and gazing up. The stars gazed right back at her from the black canvas of the horizon hugging the branches of the trees. She had to give him that, the view was breathtaking. She heard Jace move to the trunk and he came back with a six pack.

"Thanks," she said when he offered her a beer and she took a sip; after a few minutes of silence and admiring the view, she spoke again. "You'll never be able to outlive this. You know this, right? I feel personally obliged to keep teasing you about it for the rest of the days."

Jace drank of his beer as well before answering.

"Figured as much. It was a calculated risk. But teasing me for the rest of my days might prove to be a bit trouble-making. Unless you plan on coming back as a ghost, that is. I can totally see that happening."

Melody laughed whole-heartedly. Then his words registered and her smile fell little by little.

"The rest of your days, huh?" she lowered her voice barely above a whisper, a sad smile still lingering on her lips. "Eternity sounds like an awful lot of time."

Jace didn't smile when he replied.

"It is."

Melody didn't offer an answer. She wasn't sure what she could say to that. She wasn't prepared for pep talking to an immortal angel. She knew sadness and she knew anger and she knew frustration and brokenness. She didn't know what it was like to go through the same vicious cycle for hundreds, thousands of years. She would have never guessed it, given Jace's sass and snark and playfulness. But the haunted look in his eyes now betrayed him.

"It's been centuries, Melody. I feel like a Lost Boy, you know," he started, and Mel was surprised he was opening up to her. "Heaven wasn't that peachy, either, but ever since I've fallen, Earth had been my Neverland. And I'm doomed to live forever. Immortality isn't as perky as one might thing. It ain't no blessing. It's a curse."

Mel took another sip of her beer and thought his words through. She couldn't say she related. But she got it.

"Did you ever consider giving it up?" she asked. "The burden of immortality, I mean."

He cast a glance in her direction so fast that Mel barely caught it. She fidgeted. If he started declaring her eternal love, she was punching him. In the balls. Hard.

"Once," he replied shortly, looking straight ahead, and it dawned on Melody. She shot him half a smile.

"My, my," she nudged him with her elbow. "There's a girl involved, isn't it?"

Jace chuckled and smiled back at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Isn't it always?"

Silence settled again, his words ringing in Melody's ears. The conclusion was obvious and painful. Loving is like a disease that screws up your wires. Her mind flew back at Sam and at the ways she'd manage to ruin the only good thing that had happened to her in years, but she waved it away. She and Jace were in the middle of a conversation.

"So what happened?" she prompted him.

Jace shrugged. "Keri was pretty much like you, really. Same recklessness taken to the borderline of stupid."

"Hey!" Mel smacked his shoulder and he laughed.

"But she was gorgeous," he continued. "I may be an angel, but she looked more like one that I ever will."

Mel huffed. "That's such a cliché thing to say."

"Well, it _is_ true," he glared. "We were the Bonnie and Clyde of the '20s. We were practically the inspiration of Bonnie and Clyde. I told her the truth about me and she jumped head-straight into my battles. She became the pillar of our rogue angels' community. And man, could that girl kick ass."

Mel smiled at seeing him so lost in the memory.

"And?" she pushed. "What happened?"

"It happened that I was gonna give up my grace for her. She was freakin' worth it. I would have rather had a short life with her than eternity without her. She was killed within the week. Turned out some angel rogues didn't appreciate my two weeks' notice, so they had her killed. And I learned that life found a way to go on even without her."

"Let me guess," Melody tried to joke. "And you vowed to never love again for as long as you live."

"Hell no," Jace huffed. "I slaughtered the guys that killed her, drank myself to oblivion for a while, then proceeded to sleep with every walking thing wearing a skirt."

"Until me, you mean."

"You don't wear skirts."

Melody rolled her eyes. "I'm glad that's the only reason you could think of why it could never work between us. Thank God it's not more serious, like me having a boyfriend, or you being kind of immortal."

"I ain't stupid, blondie," he clicked his tongue. "I never stood a chance. I've seen Sam's puppy eyes. Even I would fall for that. And is that hair even legal? And immortal as I may be, the dude's huge so I may or may not be a little scared."

Mel threw her head back laughing and Jace shot her a boyish grin.

"Speaking of which," he changed the topic. "Whatcha gon' do about him?"

Mel sighed.

"I'll fix things," she stated fiercely; that, she was dead set on. "I love him and I'll get him back. That is, if he'll have me. But first, I gotta do one more stupid thing."

She paused for effect, and Jace frowned. When she didn't clarify, he rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air.

"Fine, I'll bite. What stupid thing?"

"I'm gonna march right into hell."

Jace's eyebrows shot up and she grinned smugly at his surprise.

"Oh, are you now?" he mocked her. "And how do you plan on going to hell, exactly?"

She winked at him. "Well, it's a good thing I've got an angel who can give me a lift."

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Jen Titus – O Death~**

"She's near, isn't she? It's happening again."

Dean barely heard Emma. They were in that town where Amara had last been sighted and they'd agreed that they should keep a safe distance from each other, just in case Amara was nearby, since they didn't want to risk Dean being around her. And that had worked well. Emma was asking the questions and Dean was watching from afar. But then he felt it again.

 _Dean._

 _Come to me._

God, it was like some private haunting party. He just couldn't get her out of his system. And he knew it was just a matter of time until he gave in to the calling and the least thing he wanted was to leave Emma alone and unprotected. He rushed out of the car and to her side and the second she caught sight of him, she pursed her lips and her shoulders tensed. She was a doctor reading his symptoms.

"Dean?" she prompted, but he wasn't looking at her.

He was looking past her shoulder. Right into Amara's eyes. She grinned at him maliciously, like she'd found the toy she loved most. Amara's eyes drifted to Emma for a brief second, a bored expression glued to her features.

"I take it she got used to being the third wheel," Amara's sensual voice reached Dean and he struggled hard to suppress a shudder. The sound of her voice sent a chill on his spine. The good kind. And he was so ashamed of that.

He couldn't speak. Her grip on him was so tight, so fierce, that all she had to do was to tilt her head a little forward and he would've rushed to her. It took every ounce of self-control he could gather right now not to do exactly that. They'd underestimated the situation so badly. Emma was right. He was leverage. And he was useless to Emma with his will so weakened and helpless in front of Amara.

"I—" he started, not knowing exactly what he could say, what he could do to get out of that situation.

But them Emma surprised him by stepping right in front of him. Her shoulders were tense, but she radiated anger and bravery. She held her chin up and didn't falter in front of Amara's deathly gaze on her.

"Stop toying with him," Emma hissed at Amara, who looked almost amused at her, as one would look at a cat who thinks it's a tiger.

Amara's eyes found Dean's anyway, though, from over Emma's shoulders.

"Tell her, Dean," she spoke calmly. "Tell her how this isn't a game. How our bond is real and palpable. Tell her that you can't deny what you're feeling for me. What we both feel."

Dean gulped and clenched his jaw.

"You're wrong."

"Am I?" Amara raised her chin defiantly. "I get that you're skeptical, Dean. I get that your little pet has interfered with our connection. But you're mine to claim. And I, yours."

None of them spoke. Dean was enthralled by the way her lips moved as she articulated every word. By the way her skin begged to be kissed. By the way her eyes spoke and the way he could speak their language. Emma stood between them, her body sheltering him in ways he wasn't sure she could comprehend. She was the only thing that kept him from giving in to Amara. And when she spoke, Dean was sure Amara knew this, too.

"You set me free, Dean," she said. "And I will return the favor. I can offer you freedom and bliss, through me."

She started walking forward, her bare feet caressing the pavement. People passed by them on the street, but none paid them any attention. They must have been cloaked somehow. The town became a rushed blur and the only thing that came to focus was Amara getting closer and closer until she stood right in front of Emma, still looking at Dean over her shoulder, never breaking eye contact. And Emma was frozen in place, too. She knew she couldn't win, not by herself. And Dean was of no help.

"But let's not get ahead of ourselves," Amara tilted her head bored, and she finally looked at Emma; the temperature of the air dropped suddenly. "First, I have rat to get rid of."

In the blink of an eye, before he could even process what was going on, Amara's fingers clenched around Emma's arms and he yanked her forward. The last thing Dean heard before they both vanished into thin air was Emma screaming out a shaky ' _Dean'._

He gasped and instantly started shaking as he turned around. He kept clinging to the hope he'd just see her standing behind him, safe and sound, and that Amara had decided to leave them be for now. But as he shouted her name and the sound of her faint screaming his name kept playing on a loop in his head, realization settled in. He ran his hands through his hair in desperation.

Amara had taken Emma.

 **Heya, guys! So I made an effort to wrap this chapter up for you, though it's really short. And ooooooh, the suspeeeeense. Woopsie.**

 **If you feel like you can't take the drama here, go check out the drama of my original story, Smoke and Mirrors while I get to writing the next chapter. Which might take a while, cuz finals. Yikes. But I've got dragons and smoldering pirates and witches and epicness.**

 **Till next time, fellas!**

 **Lots of love,**

 **xoxo**


	13. Villains that live in my head

**CHAPTER 12 – VILLAINS THAT LIVE IN MY HEAD**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Ed Sheeran – Make it rain~**

Dean spent the next three days following every lead that might have led him to Amara and Emma and ignoring every call from Sam and Melody. If he told someone what had happened, that would make it real. But he _knew_ he could find Emma first, by himself. He could take advantage of that goddamn bond between him and the Darkness and find her lair. And then no biblical force could stand between his blade and her chest.

But all he found was radio silence. The bond was quiet. No buzzing in his veins, no vibrations of his skin, no palpitations of his heart and no spinning of his head. Just endless despair in the form of Emma's hazel eyes digging into his right before she'd vanished into thin air.

Three days straight without sleep. His eyes were burning in his skull and his hands had stopped listening to him, constantly shaking and he couldn't stop them. And yet no trace of Emma. He'd driven back and forth around the tristate area, trying everything from praying to Amara and digging up lore on how to summon her. He was willing to offer her the whole world on a silver platter, hers to devour, if only she'd return Emma to him.

He refused to accept the idea that there might not have been an Emma to return anymore. His subconscious knew Amara had no use of a human she deemed worthless, and that she was probably hearing Dean's prayers, but she simply chose to ignore them. His subconscious knew she was having him exactly where she wanted him, crawling, begging, desperation eating him up, his spirit broken and susceptible to her will. Yes, his hunter instincts yelled as much at him.

But Dean shut up every voice of common sense. He couldn't give up hope. Emma was alive. Darkness bond or not, the connection he had with the woman she loved was still more powerful, enough that he'd know if she was….

But she wasn't. She was alive. And he'd find her.

But when three days flew by and there was still no trace of her, Dean had to admit that his body was shutting down. He'd find her. But first, he needed a nap, he needed to pull himself together and he needed to ask for help. He couldn't do this on his own. He just hoped Melody would let him live long enough to hold Emma one more time.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Ben Cocks – So cold~**

Emma opened her eyes. She didn't want to. She wanted her eyes to stay closed forever. For days now that seemed like an eternity, each time she opened her eyes, there was some new kind of torture waiting for her until she begged for release.

All that she remembered was a pair of green eyes desperately trying to hold on to her as she disappeared from sight. Dean must have been going out of his mind. And she tried, she tried so hard to somehow send her thoughts flying to him, to send her will to find him and beg him to come for her.

She groaned in pain as she tried to move her neck. The ground was cold beneath her back and every bone in her body hurt. She felt dry blood all over her skin and she couldn't tell anymore which wounds were old, which were new, which had been healed just to have the same pain inflicted over and over again.

Her breath stopped as she saw two bare feet hardly covered by a floor-length black dress heading her way. Of course. As if Amara would let her have one single waking moment of breathing in without feeling as if her body was rejecting her, trying to expel her out. She crouched in front of Emma, her cruel face with murder in her eyes coming into sight. She looked at Emma like a cat would regard a mouse already caught in her trap that she just wanted to keep playing with until she finally got hungry and decided to eat it.

"Good, you're awake," her breath hit Emma in the face. "I was getting bored."

With the flick of her wrist, Amara sent her flying through air until her back hit the wall. Emma felt the air getting knocked out if her lungs, every broken bone, every wound in her body pulsating in waves of pain. Tears pricked her eyes.

Amara walked towards her like a predator, enjoying the way Emma flinched at her every move. Eventually, she moved to stand in front of her, bringing her hands up and trying to make up her mind over today's torture routine. Emma couldn't keep it in anymore and she started sobbing, breathing rapidly and wishing her brain would just shut down already.

"P-Please," she begged through sobs, watching as Amara's face lit up like a kid on the Christmas morning. She was enjoying the hell out of this, but Emma didn't care. She didn't care that she humiliated herself in front of her greatest enemy. She just wanted this to end. She just hoped Dean would find a way to forgive himself for this, 'cause if she knew him at all, then she was certain he'd blame himself for this.

"Look at you," Amara spat smugly. "I wonder if Dean knows his little girlfriend is begging like a rat, for me to spare her life and let her go."

Emma stared at her for a few minutes, then her sobs slowly turned into hysterical laughter. She didn't know whether it was a coping mechanism or some weird chemical reaction going on in her fried brain, but once the laughing started, she couldn't hold it in anymore, regardless of the pain in her muscles and of the blood spurting out of her mouth. Soon enough, though, the laughter turned into groaning in pain, but she still shot Amara a smile with bloody teeth.

"Y-You… You think I'm—" she paused to cough. "You think I'm… Begging to… For you to let me go?"

Amara's features hardened, but she said nothing.

"I'm asking you to kill me," Emma continued. "End this. End me. And when… When Dean finds out that… You're the one who took me from him…. He'll come for you. No bond will save you then."

And she meant every word. She wanted the freedom that death provided. She wanted the pain to end. But she also knew that her death would send Dean over the edge and that whatever connection between him and Amara would snap in two. Her death would mean not only her freedom from all the pain, but also Dean's freedom for Amara. She was willing to sacrifice everything in order to let him have that.

Before she could realize what was happening, Amara's hand flew forward and cupped her jaw in a deathly grip. She brought her face closer to Emma's, emanating the intent to kill.

"Foolish girl," she spat. "Keep telling yourself that. Keep hanging to that thread. Because after I'm done with your precious little word, you'll have an eternity of nothingness to remember that tiny stupid hope."

She let go of her jaw, and Emma's breath hitched in pain, but she kept Amara's gaze, feeling particularly brave today.

"I'm not going to do you the favor of killing you," Amara continued, grinning mischievously. "And not because that would shatter the bond between me and Dean. That's not something you could ever understand. Dean is the one who's meant to live within me throughout my undoing of the world. He started it when he set me free. And I will end it. One worthless human will not stand in the way of that."

Emma breathed rapidly, wishing she could have the strength to retort, to tell her how wrong she was. Whatever weapon she believed was, whatever rightful place by her side she thought Dean deserved, Emma knew better. She knew the man she slept next to every night. And that was not the Dean Amara wanted as a pet.

"I won't kill you," Amara went on, "because I want you there when the world falls apart. When your Dean moves on into a world rebuilt to my liking, as you stay down here to burn. But that doesn't mean I can't have my fun with you in the meantime."

And before Emma had time to react to her words, Amara reached forward and placed her hands on both sides of her head, and Emma felt the darkness surrounding her once more and she waited for the pain to come once more.

Seconds later, a piercing scream rang through the night.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Halsey – Control~**

Dean slept for exactly 45 minutes before the dream kicked in. It was the same one that haunted his living hours. Amara disappearing with Emma away from his sight and Emma calling his name right before vanishing. He woke up in the Impala, covered in sweat and panting, calling her name. He even extended his arm to the passenger's seat, half expecting to find her there, laughing at him and telling him it had all been a really bad dream.

But she wasn't there. So Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling more tired than when he'd gone to sleep 45 minutes ago. He started the engine of the Impala and he let the soft purring of Baby drive him back to Kansas. Time to get skinned alive by Melody.

Dean walked inside the bunker, dragging his feet. He found Sam in the library, dark circles under his eyes and with a pot of coffee teasing him. Dean froze. Was it possible for his brother to have found out about Emma? But then he remembered. Sam and Mel were going through a rough patch and Melody had walked out on him. If he was still in this state, then she still hadn't come back.

"Sammy," Dean spoke slowly when he made it to the library. His brother raised his head from his palms on which he'd been resting his forehead.

"Dean," he exclaimed exhausted, and he immediately picked up on his brother's hopeless expression. "What's wrong?"

Dean gulped.

"Sammy, it's Emma. She's—"

Right before he got a chance to explain, the door to the bunker opened and Melody walked in. Her expression mirrored hers and it was clear that their fight had taken its toll on both of them. She made her way to the library, standing in front of Sam with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Hey, guys," she muttered awkwardly under her breath.

Sam didn't reply and he just kept watching her with his lips pursed. Dean could tell he wanted to give her hell for this whole thing, but he didn't have the time or the energy to worry about that. All he could think about was Emma, and how they were on a clock if they wanted to find her. And if they wanted to find her alive.

"Where's Emma?" Mel asked in a small voice, and Dean nearly choked.

"She's, umm—" he started, but his voice broke mid-sentence. "I was just about to tell Sam. Mel, Emma's—"

He sat down and ran his hands over his face, taking in quick breaths. He couldn't bring himself to get the words out. Melody sensed his distress and he saw her clench her fists.

"Dean," she called him cautiously. "Where's Emma?"

"She's… Emma's—"

"Tell me, Dean," Melody hissed through gritted teeth. "Where's my sister? Emma's what?"

Before he had a chance to reply and before Sam could stop her, Melody grabbed Dean's collar and brought her face closer to his. What Dean saw in those eyes terrified him. He'd seen those eyes every day for years now in the mirror, haunted by a consuming rage and anger and hatred that he didn't know at whom to point. And with her sister in danger, and with the terrors of hell so fresh in her memory, it was all amplified in Melody.

"Amara took her," he finally got out, the words crawling their way up from the depth of his chest and burning his airways. "She took her. And I, I, I couldn't find her."

He saw the rage in Melody's light up like gasoline, until it exploded under pressure. And then her fist connected with his jaw, sending him flying out of his seat in shock.

"Melody!" Sam screamed and tried to hold her back, but she was too far gone.

While Dean was on the floor, she grabbed his collar and threw punch after punch until she drew her knuckles back covered in blood. Her pretty figure was now contorted in an angry scowl and her whole body was shaking. And Dean couldn't bring himself to stop her. He deserved every punch. He sought solace in the pain in his face, knowing the guilt for whatever harm came to Emma was his to bear.

Sam grabbed Melody's shoulders and tried to pull her back, but she struggled and still managed to land a few more punches. She didn't go easy, kicking and scratching her way up. She would've clawed his eyes out, hadn't Sam been strong enough to pull her away.

"Let me go, Sam!" she roared, struggling in his arms.

"Melody, please calm down—"

"Let me go! This is all your fault, Dean. You put Emma in danger. She trusted you and you lost her to _Amara_. She could be _dead,_ Dean!"

Dean sat up, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, Melody's words sending daggers through his heart. Where was the lie? He was guilty of everything she was accusing of.

"She's not," he defended weakly, and willed himself to believe it; he needed to believe it.

He saw Melody's muscles relax a little under Sam's grip at his words, though her eyes still screamed murder.

"You so sure about that?" she spat at him. "She's _the Darkness_ , Dean. You think she's gonna spare the girlfriend of the guy she has the hots for?"

Dean gritted his teeth and looked her straight in the eye.

"She's alive. And I'll find her."

Melody stared right back and, after a few moments of simply staring each other down, green eyes to green eyes, guilt to anger, remorseful pain to raging pain, Melody finally freed herself from Sam's grasp.

"You better hope so, Dean Winchester," she hissed. "You better hope we find her, 'cause if something happens to my sister, I will return the favor you've done to me. And I will personally drag your ass to hell."

 **Heya, guys. Sorry it's so short and that it's not as intense and I'd wanted it to be, but seems as though my inspiration doesn't think me worth a visit these days. And my stupid finals have me on the stupid edge of my stupid seat. Buuuuuuut, I had Melody crawling inside my head begging me to write, so I had to. Melody's a pain in the ass to live with, especially when she's running wild in your imagination.**

 **Anyway. Don't forget to let me know what you think! Reviews make me happy and happy me can drag my inspiration back by the collar!**

 **And remember that if you're getting bored, you can always check out my original story, Smoke and Mirrors, with DRAAAAAGONS and PIIIIRATEEES. No, I am not okay. You can find it on fictionpress under the nickname dianesky.**

 **See ya, fellas!**

 **xoxo**


	14. Nobody's fault but mine

**CHAPTER 13 – NOBODY'S FAULT BUT MINE**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Mary Lambert – When you sleep~**

Melody didn't rush to her room. She didn't slam doors, she didn't throw her fists in the air and she didn't yell. She was a silent storm. Though she wanted nothing more than to skin Dean alive, she figured Emma would've preferred him to be alive if she came back. _When_ she came back. Because they would find her, there was no mistaking that. If she had to leave no stone unturned, Melody would find her sister and bring her back home. So for that, she needed her head clear. She closed the door to her room with a soft click and she let herself drop on her bed, breathing slowly to keep herself from breaking down and trying to come up with a strategy to find Amara and rescue her sister.

Truth be told, she didn't exactly blame Dean and she felt bad for using that hell card on him when she knew just how hard guilt was still eating him up. But she needed someone to point her finger at, just as always. She seemed to do that an awful lot lately. She knew she'd have to apologize to Dean once all this was over, since Emma would probably make her do it otherwise. But for now, she held on to all that anger and used it to fuel her search for Emma.

She heard a soft knock on the door and sighed. It couldn't have been Dean after their scene from earlier, so that only left Sam. Which didn't make it any better. She couldn't help but remember the way they'd left things last time they'd seen each other, but she didn't have the energy to deal with that, not right now. So she kept sitting on the edge of the bed, hoping that he'd eventually go away and save one tense conversation for another day. But she should've known better.

Not ten seconds later, the door creaked open and Sam peaked his head inside.

"Hey," he whispered timidly, and Melody hated how her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice when she was supposed to think about saving Emma. "Can I come in?"

She sighed and ran hand throw her blonde curls.

"You already did."

He walked inside and closed the door behind him, lingering awkwardly around, not daring to approach her, let alone touch her. Their only reassurance was to see that the thread tying them hadn't been entirely broken, but it had never been thinner. Fixable, however. Sam scratched the back of his head.

"I was crazy worried, not hearing anything about you these days," he commented as he would've talked about the weather.

Melody rolled her eyes and groaned, standing up and turning her back on him. Emma was in Amara's hands, probably hurt, probably tortured, maybe worse, and he wanted couple therapy?

"Can we not do this?" she spoke sharply. "Now's really not a good time, Sam."

"Mel—" she heard him come closer, but didn't turn around.

"Let it go, Sam. Emma's out there, hurt, if she's still alive at all," she started raising her voice. "We knew this whole Amara being connected with Dean was bad, and yet I left. If Dean couldn't bring his ass to kill the Darkness, then I should've been there to do it. It's my fault as much as it is his. Except I _left_ her, I left to chase some crazy revenge fantasy."

She buried her face in her palms, not even knowing where all of these feelings came flooding from. Her whole body was shaking and she felt the guilt choking her, cutting off her air supply until her lungs started burning. Good God, how true everything was. She'd been so blinded by raw hatred and rage and selfishness, she'd been so wrapped up in her insane plans that she hadn't stopped to take in the real threat hanging above their heads. And now, said threat had her sister.

"Melody," she heard Sam behind her and she felt his hands at her shoulders, turning her around. "Mel, hey. Mel. Look at me." She turned around facing him, and he raised her chin until they were eye to eye. "At me. Breathe, okay? Just breathe."

She followed his lead and forced her lungs to expand with a deep inhale. She willed her muscles to relax and her body to stop shaking and her brain to start functioning. Sam cupped her cheeks in his big palms.

"That's it, baby. Keep breathing. Calm down, okay? We'll find her."

"We will," she nodded forcefully. "We'll find Emma. And when I have Amara before me, I will give her the hell I crawled from. I'll show the Darkness just how dark I can be."

She felt Sam's grip on her weakening, but she didn't allow herself to regret her words. For months now, he'd asked for the truth and she'd been reluctant when it came to offering it. He wanted to know how she felt? Well, that's how she felt. She'd come back from hell with a part of herself missing, one that she'd left down in the pit and that had been replaced with tiny black holes. And she'd tried to fight them ever since, but now she knew there's no escaping your monsters. You gotta let 'em in and tame them, ride them into battle. Whether Sam could handle that knowledge or not, that was entirely up to him.

His touch left her skin little by little until there was nothing more but cold where his fingertips had been.

"I know you will," he replied. "That's your thing, isn't it?"

He ran his hand over his face and forced a reassuring smile, but Mel couldn't keep up the pretenses. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Why did you come here, Sam?" she asked him. "Last time we talked, you didn't seem so eager to be my Band-Aid anymore."

He shrugged helplessly. "You needed me. I come when you need me."

Ain't that the truth, Mel thought. Sam had stoically stood by her side for months, rocking her back and forth after every nightmare, wiping away every tear, kissing every scar on her body, loving her back to life to remind her there was a life to be loved back to. Yeah. He always came when she needed him. Even when she didn't know she did. She sat on the edge of the bed again and he crouched in front of her, placing his hands over her knees. And she knew there were other things to freak out about, but for now, the warmth of his big rough palms cupping her knees felt like home.

"Look, Mel. You gotta know I didn't mean a single word I said that night."

She laughed humorlessly. "You mean every one of them, Sam."

He sighed and dropped his gaze. And Mel's heart shrunk as she thought he'd agree with her, stand up and leave, crying ' _uncle_ ' for good this time. And she realized she wasn't ready to be left alone just yet. She was tired of being alone now that she saw she'd chosen to stay alone while being surrounded by so much love. But when Sam raised his eyes to hers again, she nearly gasped at how the green of his irises still shone up at her. His adorable dimples showed as he shot her a tired half-smile and his hands started travelling up her thighs, making a small gasp escape her lips.

"You're wrong," he whispered. "You wanna believe I meant what I said to fuel your guilt. But when we get past this, too, when we're done with Amara and all that and it's all quiet again, I will show you, I will _remind_ you exactly just how much I love you. So that you have no reason to doubt it again."

Mel sighed loudly as his touch did crazy things to her brain and she was sure he was enjoying the hell out of it. Eventually, his hands left her thighs and grabbed her wrists, leading her hands up and placing them around his neck. Almost as a reflex, Mel rested her forehead against his and she felt it snap inside her like the pull of a trigger.

Sam. God, she still had Sam. Everything would be fine if she still had Sam. And she would not allow herself to get so close to losing Sam again. With him by her side, she could conquer the world from Heaven to hell. Quite literally. The force with which she'd missed him nearly knocked the air out of her lungs and she let out a sharp breath.

"God," she breathed, her warm breath tickling his lips. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Sam. I love you. I'm stupid and reckless and I'll keep making mistakes, but I love you so much."

He turned his head and kissed the inside of her wrist, leaning into her touch.

"Then I'll keep forgiving you for them," he replied. "It's what I do. What I'm here for. I told you I can't lose you, Melody. I love you with every stupid decision you make, and I'm not letting you go this easy. You're the best thing that's happened to me in this mess up of a life."

 _I love you with every stupid decision you make._

Oh, well. While they were at it. Bad decisions and recklessness seemed to be her middle name lately. But if she wanted to do this and make sure he'd still be there for her at the end of the road, then she needed to be open with him.

"And you're the best thing in mine," she traced the lines of his jaw with his fingertips, enjoying the way he shuddered at her touch. "And it's time I treat you like it. This stupid revenge ain't getting me anywhere."

Sam's eyebrows shot up.

"So you're done?" he inquired. "With the revenge and the search for answers?"

She smiled sadly. "Almost. I've got one more stupid thing I need to do to end things. And then I'm pretty certain you're all I need to keep me sane."

He was quiet for a moment, pondering her words. Mel tensed, still half-expecting him to get up and leave the room, declaring it was more than he'd signed up for. She couldn't ask him to put up with her demons when she was having a hard time with them herself. But still, Sam had stayed. Every damn time. He hadn't gotten rid of those demons of hers and he hadn't tamed them, but he'd made them adore him just as much as she did until they fell helpless to his feet, bendable to his will. And after a few more minutes of silently thinking about it with pursed lips, Sam spoke.

"Do I wanna know?"

Mel bit her lip against a bitter smile. "Probably not."

"Will you be safe?"

"Probably not," she repeated. "But I'll make my way back to you. Like I always do. I promise."

And then he placed a chaste kiss on her lips, making her heart whole again. An explosion of colors burst behind her eyelids and it took her aback, how easily the broken pieces of herself fit back together once she'd accepted he was the only answer she needed. How had she taken so long to see this? When they broke away and their eyes met, she was not even surprised to realize he had the power of reaching within her and pulling out just what was needed in order to fix them.

She smiled up at him and he pulled her in his arms in a tight embrace.

"But first," she murmured in his chest, "we raise hell on that bitch's ass."

"You have a plan, don't you?"

She raised her head to gaze at him wickedly. "Don't I always?"

 **~SOUNDTRACK: The Heavy – Same Ol'~**

"Here's how this is gonna go," Melody leaned on her palms against the table in the library. "There's two things we gotta do. Get Amara away and get Emma out. Easy as that."

Dean sighed deeply. Melody could read the desperation in his eyes, but she didn't allow herself to give in to the compassion. Sure, her nerves were a little calmer after her talk with Sam, but that didn't absolve Dean of the role he'd played in whatever Emma was going through right now.

"Absolutely," Dean low-key mocked. "Should be a piece of cake."

"I think we're skipping a step," Sam chimed in. "Before getting to saving Emma, aren't we supposed to find them first? We've got no lead on their location."

Melody crossed her arms over her chest. "Like Dean said. Piece of cake. We track Emma's phone. She had it on her when Amara took her, right?"

Dean huffed and Mel rewarded him with a glare.

"You can't expect it to be so easy, do you?" he asked. "Your sister ain't stupid. She wouldn't risk being found by people or things that we don't want to find us by keeping her GPS turned on."

Mel gritted her teeth. "Won't hurt to check," she struggled to keep calm. "And if her GPS is off, then you call her and Amara picks up. That'll set the scene for you baiting her out, either way."

Both brothers raised their eyebrows at her words. In fact, the plan was pretty flawless. Sure, lots of things were bound to go wrong, but she was pretty confident. She had to be. Because she was finally damn ready to kick some serious ass, and she had to believe there'd be enough ass to kick.

"Look, pretty eyes," she stared him down. "You've known my sister for not even a year yet. I've known her my whole life. I know how she thinks, I know how she does things. We've had policies about what to do if we ever got separated back when we were on the run. So if I'm telling you there's a solid chance her GPS is on, then trust me, I know what I'm talking about."

Dean bit his lip and his gaze lost focus as he processed everything. After a few minutes, he broke the silence.

"Okay," he muttered. "Okay, we're doing it your way. Lead the way, Rapunzel. So I'm baiting Amara out."

She nodded. "If we track down Emma's location, you go somewhere as far as possible, in some thick as fuck woods. And you distract her. I don't care if you gotta recite her Martin Luther King's speech by heart, you buy us time to get Emma out. Got it?"

"Got it," he nodded. "I'll find something."

"Good. Now all that's left to figure out is how you'll make a run for it once we have Emma. "

"Yeah, don't sweat it," Dean replied. "I'll figure something out. I'll freestyle my way out of it. You worry about getting Emma out safe and sound, okay?"

Melody looked at him with harsh eyes. She stayed silent and took him in and, with a loud exhale, she let it go. She let go of the grudge, because what she saw in front of her was a tormented man, one that had just had the woman he loved taken away from him and who felt guilty as hell because of that. Perhaps Dean didn't deserve the comfort of her forgiveness, but he needed it. So even if she felt like throttling him, seeing as he was already fighting off a hurricane, she wasn't about to become another thunder in the middle of it.

So Mel placed a hand on his shoulder and offered him a smile. The shocked expression on his face was so freaking worth it.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, pretty eyes," she told him. "Don't worry. We'll find her."

He looked at her surprised with glassy eyes for a minute, before nodding. Melody knew for a fact desperation tasted bitter on his tongue, since with Emma in Amara's hands, she was well to acquainted with the feeling herself.

"Guys," Sam's voice from behind her broke her train of thoughts. "I ran the GPS app. I found her. I found Emma."

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Sam Tsui – Safe and sound (Taylor Swift cover)~**

She was cold. So cold. Amara had no intention of putting her out of her misery, so Emma was stuck feeling sorry for herself, stuck wishing to die, stuck feeling terrified of the torture each hour brought, stuck holding on to the hope that they would come for her. They had to come for her. Sam. Melody.

Dean.

Dean would come for her.

She heard footsteps approaching and her whole body froze. She didn't dare move a single muscle. Perhaps, if she feigned sleep or if she played dead, she would leave her alone for now. At least for now. She didn't want to feel pain anymore. But pain seemed to be all there was left to it anymore. Pain was her only reminder that Amara was keeping her alive and, the longer she stayed alive, the greater the chances they would find her. That her Dean would find her. She knew he would never give up on her. She knew that whatever connection had existed between him and the Darkness, Amara had shattered it the minute she dared lay a hand on Emma. She was _that_ confident in how much Dean loved her. Because the two of them were the yin and the yang. He'd been shadow and she'd been light. He'd been the edge and she'd been the bottom. Back when all he knew was sinking low, she'd been the one who taught him that heights were nothing to be scared of. And as a result, they'd slowly learned to even each other out until they became two halves of the same whole. Just like Melody and Sam. Their lives, their meeting, it was never random. They'd been meant to complete the whole. She'd been meant to save him and he'd been meant to love her.

So she held on to that. Because that was all she had left as Amara crouched before her.

"Well, well," she spoke in that voice that sent shivers down her spine. "Seems like your Dean is calling for me, little Emma. Count your breaths. I'll be getting what I wanted really soon."

With no other word, she stood up and left her. No torture. Perhaps she'd just thought the bit of information she'd shared with her was torture enough. But she had no idea, really. She had no idea that her words offered Emma the greatest relief possible. If Dean was calling for her, then they had a plan and he was the distraction.

Oh, she knew. They were truly coming for her.

 **Once again, I'm terribly sorry for taking so long to update. Finals are getting the best of me and I've had my birthday a couple of days ago and I've been busy, busy, busy.**

 **But in the meantime, don't forget to check out my original story, Smoke and Mirrors, that's got dragons, smoldering pirates and medieval drama. You can find it on fictionpress under the username dianesky.**

 **Lots of love,**

 **xoxo**


	15. This is my last goodbye

**CHAPTER 14 – THIS IS MY LAST GOODBYE**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Hidden Citizens – Silent running~**

Dean walked through the woods, his heart slamming against his rib cage. He knew the scenario all too well. And by now, he should've known how it would unfold, he'd be following the same script and he'd end up with the same pointless conclusions. But with Amara, he never really did know. There was no way of knowing for sure when his self-control would shatter to pieces and when he would give in to the calling in his blood.

He put one foot in front of the other, hearing the leaves crack beneath his boots, the wind howling at him. He stopped in a remote spot deep in the woods and took a deep breath. He hoped Sam and Melody were in position and he hoped he'd be able to buy them the time they needed to get Emma out. He inhaled deeply again and allowed his thought to wander freely.

To wander to her.

And for once, the pull came from him and he gave it a sharp tug. It felt liberating, to be the one in charge this time. To stop resisting and to give in.

 _Amara._

 _Come to me._

He closed his eyes and repeated it a few times, wondering if he did this right, if she could even hear him. She had to. They all depended on this plan. Emma's life depended on this damn plan. When he opened his eyes, Amara was standing in front of him.

"Dean," her velvet, deep voice rang through his very core. "You called for me."

He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. He waited for it. He waited for that itching of his skin to reach for her, for the sharp knives driven through his ribs, prompting him to step forward and take her in his arms so that they could finally become one, as they'd been meant to from the beginning. But for the first time, none of that came. He no longer saw Amara as a means to complete himself, to bring the yin and the yang together, to give in to both the light inside him and the darkness she provided so that he could feel whole and in tune with everything. His better half, the one who completed him and made him whole, was Emma Bennett. And now he saw Amara as the bad bitch who had taken her from him.

"You left me no choice," he spat. "You took Emma. And I want her back."

Amara cocked her head to one side, as if amused by the battles he constantly fought within himself. And perhaps she was. What was Dean to her anyway? Sure, he'd been her host, her shelter for a while, and he'd set her free. But in the very end, he was a cockroach struggling under her bare feet.

"What you want is of little interest to me, Dean," she spoke unfazed. "It's what you need that I'm after. Even if you still choose to lie to yourself."

"Oh, I did," Dean cut in, his fists shaking in anger. "I lied to myself. I denied it. I kept all that crap bottled like you wouldn't believe. But not anymore. I took the lid off, Amara, and all that's left is anger and hate and bloodthirst. You took Emma from me. And that ain't going unpunished. So we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?"

He saw Amara's brows furrow in confusion and it occurred to him that she hadn't taken into consideration the aftermath of her actions. For her, Emma was barely an obstacle in her path that prevented her from reaching her goal. Getting to Dean. But she hadn't counted on how messing with the love of his life would mess with Dean's attraction towards herself. Acknowledging that, Dean felt free, at last.

"I won't return Emma to you," Amara stated blankly. "And you can go on lying to yourself, Dean, but the end is inevitable, regardless of your denial or of your feelings towards me at the moment. We do belong together and we will be found together before I end the world as you know it."

Dean gulped. "Whatever floats your boat. But Emma has nothing to do with this. Let her go. I'm the one you're after."

Amara broke into a feral smile that sent a shiver down Dean's spine.

"I'll do no such thing," she shook her head. "Your Emma will be there to witness our union and the end. And you will be there to witness her death."

Without waiting for a reply, she vanished into thin air and Dean gasped. He started pacing frantically and looking around, but there was no sign of Amara. She was gone. God, it hadn't been enough time. He was supposed to stall her, to keep her entertained for longer. He just hoped Sam and Mel had had enough time to get Emma out. Or else, he'd lose all three of them at her hands.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Aron Wright – I surrender~**

The place was quiet tonight. Or this morning. As far as Emma knew, it could be either. It wasn't like she was exactly keeping track of time down here.

Everything hurt. She moaned and opened her eyes. As insignificant as it sounded to think about it, those small gestures were rather brave. It was what gave her away. It was what let Amara know she was awake and up for another round of torture. And Emma could have just stayed quiet for a little while longer, pretended she was asleep. But she refused to let herself be scared of her anymore. Amara wanted to either kill her now, or to keep her breathing for a little longer until she could kill her in front of Dean. Either way, Emma's days were accounted for. She wasn't walking out of this one alive. And she found she was oddly fine with that. If Dean didn't make it here in time to save her, then her death would push him to do whatever it took to beat the Darkness.

But Amara never came. Half a minute passed and Emma counted her heartbeats before daring to open her eyes. No bare feet and no hem of a black dress in sight. She even looked around, but it appeared like it was true. Amara wasn't here.

And then she heard movement around her. Perhaps today wasn't the day when she got lucky enough. She closed her eyes again. Let Amara have her way with her. She was tired. She was so fucking tired. She wanted to go to sleep, a dreamless sleep she would never wake up from. If nothingness was what awaited her, then nothingness she would welcome as her fate. She no longer cared. She was so tired. She wanted so badly to give up. She wanted to surrender.

So she kept her eyes closed. She felt her breath grow weaker. Her heartbeat slowed down, humming like a soft lullaby that fades out as you fall asleep. She was at peace with it all. It was as easy as falling asleep. You drift away until you're not awake anymore. And everything was so quiet. She sent her goodbyes, wishing they would find those she loved and that they would come to terms with her fate, as well. In the end, she just clung to the hope that whatever grace still resided in her would float away and find them to make them feel her love.

She was nearly gone. Nothing hurt anymore. She was counting her heartbeats.

But then she felt two arms lifting her.

 _No,_ she though. _No. Let me go._

"Emma," she heard a female voice that she was having trouble placing; it wasn't Amara, at least. "Oh, hell no, Emma. You come back to me, you hear me? You are _not_ dying on me."

She knew the voice. She'd known that voice her whole life. Her mind was slow, but her heart recognized that voice and let itself flutter a little longer. Emma forced her eyes open and was met with emerald green eyes and blonde hair and shaky hands trying to pull her up.

"M-Mel?" her groggy voice managed to get out.

Her sister let out a breathless laugh. "Who else, dumbass? Sam, help me get her up. We have to hurry."

Stronger arms lifted Emma up and she snuggled against Sam's strong chest. She allowed herself to drown a little in the realization. They'd come for her. She couldn't surrender just yet.

And then, as much as she struggled to hold on, the whole world went black.

When Amara made it back to the warehouse where she kept Emma, she found it empty. She paced back and forth, still hoping she would find her passed out somewhere, behind some stupid box, but it was true.

Dean had just meant to distract her. They'd taken away her toy.

The Darkness started shaking uncontrollably and she let out an enraged, frightening scream that had the world trembling.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Allman Brown & Liz Lawrence – Sons and daughters~**

The door to the bunker opened and Dean hurried in, carrying in Emma's unconscious body. She lay helpless in his arms, pale and covered in dirt and blood, and Dean's eyes were red and unfocused. She'd barely had a pulse when he met up with Sam and Melody. He knew she was fighting to stay with him, fighting to not let go, but he could tell she was slowly losing that battle. God knew what the hell Amara had done to her.

Mel went ahead and cleared the long table from the library, then hurried to grab the first aid kit while Dean placed Emma's limp body on the table. He checked for a pulse again. He held his breath, feeling the pulse from his own fingers before feeling Emma's. They had to hurry.

"What do we do, Melody?" he roared when Mel came back with the first aid kit.

She placed the kit on the table, next to Emma, and started searching through it.

"I-I'm not sure," she rambled. "There's so much stuff in here. She's the one who usually takes care of this. I don't know what half of it even is."

Sam hurried to her side and started looking through Emma's medical tools, too, until he found what he wanted. A small vial. He pulled out a syringe and started loading it with the vial's content, his hands shaking violently.

"Adrenaline," he explained. "It should give her heart a head-start until we stabilize her."

Without waiting for their reply or their reaction, he drove the needle of the syringe straight through her chest and injected the adrenaline into her heart, getting small gasps from his brother and Mel.

And then all there was left to do was wait. For a few seconds, the three of them held their breaths. Sam didn't know what else he could do if this didn't work. Emma was their patch-up girl. With her on the table, they all felt as if their hands were tied. But it had to have worked. Emma was strong. She'd pull through. She'd make her way back to them.

As if summoned by their thoughts and hopes, Emma opened her eyes and drew in a sharp breath.

Melody stripped of the clothes covered in Emma's blood and stepped into the shower. She let the hot water pour down her body, closing her eyes and focusing on just the way her muscles relaxed under the heavy drops hitting her shoulder like a hurricane. She let them wash away the heaviness of her soul.

She'd nearly lost Emma. She'd nearly lost her sister, her best friend, her pillar. Emma, who had not once faltered and had always stayed by her side. Never again would Melody have to see those she loved hurt. She promised herself this much.

She turned her face upwards, feeling hot streaks of water caressing her face. At her feet, the water turned bright red, tainted with blood that belonged to Emma.

She sighed and stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around herself and ran a hand over the steamy mirror until she could see her face. Her eyes were red and puffy and she could now tell she hadn't even realized she was crying back when they were trying to stabilize her sister. There were dark circles under her eyes that made her look like a friggin' ghost and, Christ, she'd lost so much weight lately. Maybe she was really turning into a ghost.

She'd nearly lost Emma. All this time, she'd thought this crusade of hers, those pavements she'd been chasing ever since she'd come back from hell, had been just a pointless battle of hers to keep her demons on a leash. But no longer. She'd no longer fear those demons. She would teach them to fear her. This was never about revenge and closure and getting answers. This was about safety. She was so fucking tired of never feeling safe anymore. And with everyone's lives on the line as well, she was done being scared.

She got out of the bathroom and put some clothes on. Now that her sister was safe, it was time to do that last stupid thing. But she knew better this time than to leave without saying goodbye.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Lianne La Havas – Gone~**

Mel raised her hand and knocked twice on Emma's door before walking in. Her sister was in her bed, her back against the headboard, rubbing at her neck and wrists.

"Hey, Em," Mel smiled at her. "How're you feeling?"

Emma simply sighed. Oh man, she really did look bad. There were cuts and bruises all over her face and arms and legs and probably under her clothes, as well, but she held on stoically. Emma was brave and stupid like that. She would never let them know she was anything better than her ever-present _fine_.

"I've had better days," she shrugged and cringed, and Mel raised an eyebrow at her words. "But I'm fine."

There it was. She was fine. Of course. Mel rolled her eyes. She took a few tentative steps forward and sat on the side of Emma's bed. She would've rather had a clean break so that she could be on her way as quick as possible, but none of that was possible with Emma. God, the realization of how come she'd come to losing her was still striking her dumb.

"Where's, umm, where's Dean?" she stammered, and her sister narrowed her eyes at her suspiciously.

"He went to get me something to eat. Mel, what's wrong?"

Melody sighed and ran a hand through her blonde hair. Oh boy, this was harder than anticipated. She flinched when she felt Emma's hand over hers on the edge of the bed.

"Mel," her sister spoke softly. "Talk to me. You're up to something, aren't you?"

Mel bit her lower lip. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

Emma let out a humorless laugh. "And here I am, not even surprised."

The girls sat in deep silence for a few seconds, each pondering to what was going on. In the end, it was Mel who broke it.

"Look, Em. What I'm about to do, it's bad and dangerous."

"As one would expect from Melody Bennett," Emma mocked her.

"Yeah," Mel nodded, smiling sadly. "Bad. Dangerous. Also stupid and reckless. But I need to do it, Em. Not just for me. For all of us. I'm gonna do my thing and I need to know that you're okay with that."

"Because you may not make it back," Emma spoke the words hanging between them, throwing them out there and letting them press on their shoulders.

Melody didn't speak. Yeah, because that was a possibility, too. And she needed to leave everything in place before going precisely because of that. She needed to be at peace with that and she needed everyone else to be at peace with it, too. They'd mourned her once. She couldn't let them do that again. And in return, she promised herself she'd do her best to not die this time around.

"I'm not, Mel," Emma said eventually. "Obviously, I'm not okay with that. But it's your call. I can't stop you, can I?"

Mel sniffed and wondered at which point she'd started crying. She wiped a few tears away angrily. She hated when this happened.

"You really can't," she admitted.

"Then go," her sister sighed. "Go kick whatever ass you wanna kick. And come back to us, Mel."

Melody threw her arms around Emma's neck and hugged her tight. She didn't have it in her to remind her that she may not be able keep that promise, but she nodded anyway. If anything, she'd do her best to do just so.

"I love you," she whispered in Emma's shoulder, and without as much as a glance back, she jumped on her feet and walked out of her room.

She stopped in the middle of the hallway, knowing she had to go back to Sam's room, to find him and tell him goodbye, too. She willed her feet to move. She forced her muscles to turn her around, but they didn't listen. And neither did her heart, because it couldn't handle one more goodbye. These damned goodbyes.

So as much as she knew she'd hate herself for that later, as much as she knew Sam would hurt and as much hell as she knew he'd give her if she made it back, she kept going without looking over her shoulder. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she almost started running and never stopped. If she stopped, she'd go back. And if she went back, she'd screw it all up and she'd never leave at all.

She took a turn around the corner and bumped into a toned chest. Strong arms went around her waist to steady her. She looked up to find Sam's serene face looking down at her, because the universe had a fucked up sense of humor. He frowned and every damn wall that Mel had in her shattered and she broke down in his arms. All that followed were sobs and muttered words that none of them understood until they fell on their knees, on the floor, arms finding each other and lips kissing tears.

"I'm so sorry, Sam," she managed to get out. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I couldn't. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, hey, Mel. Hey. Look at me. Mel, were you leaving?"

Pointless question they both knew the answer to. More tears down Mel's cheeks. Sam gulped. Hands smoothing down wild strands of her hair.

"You are," he stated in a broken voice.

"I couldn't say goodbye, Sam," her voice broke. "Not to you. I can't. All we do is say goodbye."

"Then don't," he cupped her cheeks in his big palms and forced their eyes to meet. Mel noticed his were teary, too.

"Sam, I have to—"

"No, listen to me, Melody. Don't say goodbye. Go do your thing. And come back to me. In one piece, so that we never have to say goodbye again. You hear me?"

She knew it made no sense. She knew she could make no promises. But she nodded, and Sam sealed the deal with a soft kiss, so smooth and careful as if he were afraid she might have broken in his arms. He put his open, shaky lips above hers and let them shut, and they sat there, glued to each other, for as long as they could. Eventually, they pulled away and stood up. They untangled themselves from each other slowly and reluctantly until only their fingertips touched.

"See you soon," Sam whispered to her.

 _Don't say goodbye._

"See you soon, Sam," she replied.

And then their fingertips left each other, too, until all that remained with Mel was the ghost of his touch. She moved past him, knowing they were fooling themselves. Oh, it was goodbye, alright. But it was the last one, she promised herself. Never again would she have to say goodbye. If she made it back, she would return with the certainty of a world where she would never have to leave those she loved behind.

 **I am terribly sorry for how long it's been since I last updated, but I just finished my finals this week. It has been. Awful. But I'm done now. And in the mood to write :D so here, I made up for it with a kick-ass chapter that I wrote in one sitting. Sad as fuck cause, well, ya know me. How do you feel about it? Enjoying it? Lemme know!**

 **Lots of love, xoxo**


	16. Give 'em hell, kid

**CHAPTER 15 – GIVE 'EM HELL, KID**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: The Brothers Bright – Awake O Sleeper~**

Jace and Mel stopped in front of a metal door covered in graffiti that the angel had led them to. The night was pitch black, no moon on the sky to guide their steps. Only a handful of stars silently judging their poor decisions. But Melody would have none of that. She was ending it today.

"This is your portal to hell?" she raised an eyebrow. "I was expecting something a bit more spectacular, I don't know. More ostentatious."

Jace sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. Next time, I'll ask them to have a limo prepared for you only."

She couldn't stop herself from smacking the back of his head.

"Knock off the snark, angel boy. This is serious business."

"I know," he glared. "You brought up the aesthetics of it."

"Fuck this," she shook her head. "You're impossible. So how is this gonna work? We knock on the door and Satan opens up and asks us in for tea?"

"Don't be absurd. Satan's more like the dog locked away in the backyard. As to our route, let's just say we're taking a detour."

Before Melody could inquire what he was talking about, Jace opened the door and they stepped in the depth of the darkness. She braced herself for the scenery of her most vicious nightmares. Fire, screaming, the clank of chains, the smell of burned, rotten flesh. She felt the small hair at the nape of her neck stand up. Maybe she wasn't as ready as she'd thought she was. After all, it's not every day that one gets to face their deepest fears. Keeping your demons at bay looks easier from afar, when you don't have to stand before them and let them choke you.

But instead of darkness and pain, Mel was blinded by light and suspicious silence. She froze. This wasn't hell.

"Where are we?" she asked Jace.

She dared to look around. This was a forest, but something was off about it. She could tell they weren't above ground anymore. It wore the marks of death and supernatural. Not to say that the utter quiet was the kind that hid the greatest threats.

"Purgatory," the angel replied shortly, and she felt her eyebrows rise.

"Purgatory?" she shrieked, and Jace shushed her.

"Actual purgatory, Melody, yes. Keep your voice down. This place stinks of monsters thirsty for a good hunt. And I ain't feeling like ending up Leviathan breakfast today. Let's go."

He grabbed her hand and they started moving slowly through the woods, leaves ruffling beneath their feet being the only sound ringing through the forest. They did their best trying to move as silently as possible. Jace had meant what he'd told her. They were better off if they stayed out of any trouble. He looked sideways at her, trying to read her. He expected to find her a little frightened, a little pumped of adrenaline, maybe shaking.

He should've known better. This was Melody Bennett. She'd have none of that.

Instead, she looked focused and sharper than never. She was tense, but every step she took was precise and not at all faltered. And at a closer look, he noticed a hungry look in her eyes, a fierceness to her features and rang the alarm for him.

"You're not scared of this place," he stated simply. No question mark.

"You kiddin' me?" she clicked her tongue. "There's something about it. It resonates with me. Like it meets all of my rage equally, like it answers to it. There's raw power here. And it's the first time when I don't feel bad about my anger since I came back from hell."

"A simple no would've been enough," Jace mumbled under his breath. "Your Dr. Phil speeches can get us killed down here."

"Let 'em come, angel boy," she shot him a feral smile. "I've got plenty to hit them with."

Before she could even finish her sentence, Jace heard them. Oh, just great. Marvelous. A bunch of crazed werewolves ganged up and out to get them. Jace groaned. This was the exact thing he'd wanted to avoid. He looked sideways at Mel, wanting to tell her that they needed to run and to not engage under any circumstances, but she already had her blade out.

"Mel, no—" he tried to tell her, stepping backwards, but there was bloodthirst in her eyes and Jace knew she wasn't backing down.

"That's what I'm talking about, baby," she roared before lunging into battle.

Jace had seen her fight before, but it was hypnotizing nonetheless. Before he could even lose a breath, her blade had already dropped two heads. It wasn't silver, but it was kind of hard to keep werewolf-ing around with no head. God, she was unstoppable. Each step was precise and sharp and there was werewolf blood on her face and on her clothes and in her hair and when the last body dropped, she just stood there, surrounded by beheaded bodies, a satisfied smile on her face that half terrified and half turned on Jace. Yeah, he was getting all sorts of mixed signals here.

"Well," she murmured under her breath. "This was fun."

"Holy shit," Jace exhaled sharply, his shoulders finally dropping. "Are you nuts, Melody? If we die down here, we stay dead."

She simply shrugged. "Then I guess we try to not die."

Jace was about to argue more on the matter, but before Mel could even finish her sentence, they saw more silhouettes approach. Freaking awesome. They were lucky if they even made it to the portal. More freaking monsters. Vampires, as far as he could tell.

"Oh, man," he whined, but reached inside his jacket for his angel blade anyway.

He heard Melody snarl – actually snarl – and she was about to lunge at them.

"Wait, wait, wait," one of them, most likely their leader, roared at them.

Jace was surprised when Melody hesitated, but it lasted no more than a second and she grabbed the vampire by the throat and shoved him into the nearest tree.

"Give me one reason why you should keep your head, pal," she sneered at him.

"We mean no harm," the vampire spoke breathlessly. "We ain't picking a fight. And, and… And I think I know you."

Melody frowned and tilted her head to one side. "Unlikely. I would remember being friends with a friggin' vampire. And if you're one of those I've sent down here, then I doubt you'd mean us no harm."

"N-No, no," the vampire pleaded when Mel's blade started pricking his neck. "It's not that. I'm not sure. But you… you remind me of someone. Someone who was down here."

Mel froze and she could hear her heart pounding. There was only one person she knew of to have been down here and that she could remind this guy of. She slowly lowered her blade and took one step backwards, keeping her dangerous stance.

"Speak," she commanded.

"Dean Winchester," the vampire confirmed her suspicions. "You remind me of Dean. I hurried back here because I felt his presence. In you, girl. What do you have to do with Dean?"

Melody's blade went against his throat again and his vampire buddies sneered, but they stopped in place casting cautious glances at Jace.

"I'm asking the questions here, Dracula," Mel threatened. "What do _you_ have to do with Dean?"

"Name's Benny," the vampire replied. "Dean and I were friends."

"Doesn't ring a bell, _Benny_ ," Mel said. "And excuse me if I find that hard to believe. Dean would be as likely to befriend a vampire as I am to not behead you within the next thirty seconds."

"We were," Benny replied calmly. "We fought together for a year while he was here, then he helped me get out along with him. And then sent me back down here to help Sam escape when he got back from hell during those trials of theirs."

Melody considered for a few seconds. The story was too accurate for him to lie. It still sounded wrong to her and every instinct in her bones screamed at her to finish the bastard, but if he and Dean had truly been friends, maybe there was some way she could benefit from that. Not to mention that Dean would've never forgiven her if she happened to kill his already dead vamp buddy.

She stepped backwards, threat still sparkling in her eyes.

"Alright, Benny. So you're a friend of Dean's."

"And who are you?" the vamp asked. "I expected to find Dean. What's your deal?"

She was about to snap at him again about asking too many questions that didn't concern him, but then she remembered her logic from earlier. Ugh. Doing the right thing was so boring.

"I'm his doppelganger," she crossed her arms over her chest after tucking her blade away. "Name's Melody. The angel boy over there is Jace."

Benny's lips curved into a weird half smile. "You and Dean-o are clearly tied or something. He had a lil' angel on his shoulder, too."

Melody rolled her eyes. "Right, right. Never mind that. You said you helped Sam escape during the trials. So do you know where the portal to hell is?"

Jace moved forward and caught her elbow.

"I know where the portal is, Melody," he spoke in a hushed voice. "Why the hell do you need these guys?"

She turned to him. "It's all for the best, angel boy. We find the portal and we get a nice group of vamp bodyguards." She looked back at Benny. "Let's get this straight, _Benny._ I don't trust you. But if what you say is true, Dean did, so you're our best shot at getting in and out of here in one piece."

Benny took a step forward, a sly smile crossing his lips.

"Well, Melodean," he mocked, and she glared at him. "You could've asked nicely. A friend of Dean-o is a friend o' mine."

He turned to his vamps, motioning for them to move, and Mel looked sideways at Jace. By the pursed line of his lips, he clearly wasn't too excited at the prospect of hanging out with a gang of bloodsuckers. Well, he'd have to suck it up. Even he had to admit it was good strategy.

Mel and Jace and the vampire gang started walking and, as none of them were speaking, the same tomb silence settled in. It was so odd, Mel thought. They were woods, but not like the ones from the real world. Real life woods were harmoniously quiet, yet humming with life and buzzing with the sound of birds and animals and wind howling. None of that was down here. In fact, Mel thought, if she stayed silent enough, she swore she could hear the sound of her own heartbeat. And it was pumping with the rush of the kill.

"Dean never mentioned you," she told Benny, desperate to fill the dead stillness in her head.

The vampire huffed. "Why would he? As far as he knows, I'm dead. Well, deader. When I got his lil bro to the portal, I got jumped. Bastards damn near finished me. These fellas figured they'd lend a hand and we've survived together ever since. Well, as much surviving as a dead person who died a couple times can do."

"Right," Mel mumbled. She hadn't been particularly interested in his answer, though.

"How's he, anyway?" Benny continued. "Ever since that Leviathan business of his, he's sent quite some bad guys down here. And they ain't speaking nice of what's going on up there."

"We've been busy," she replied simply. "It's been bad, but we're taking care of it."

Benny looked sideways at her, but didn't comment any further when it became clear she wasn't in a chatty mood. They walked in silence for a while longer, Jace keeping embarrassingly close to her, like any vamp could have jumped her any minute and he'd have to be her hero in spandex pants. No need for that, she thought and started walking faster to put some distance between them. Jace was an idiot to worry. She could take well care of herself.

"We're here," Benny announced eventually. "The portal's right beneath those rocks. Take care, kiddo. Hell ain't no spa resort."

Mel glared. "Don't lose your head so close to the finish line," she threatened, but the vampire only chuckled.

"Have it your way, Melodean. And if you do make it back up, tell Dean his buddy Benny's saying hi. And that I ain't looking forward to seeing him down here again soon."

Mel nodded. "Will do."

Without a second word, Benny gathered his vampires and left Melody with Jace, staring reluctantly at the rocks beneath which the portal was supposed to be. This was it. There was no going back after that. Melody was truly about to raise some serious hell.

"Well, fuck," she let out a loud sigh and rubbed her palms together. "This is it, angel boy. Shall we?"

Jace looked at her with pursed lips. He fidgeted and Melody narrowed her eyes at him.

"What? You're not gonna try to talk me out of it again, are you?"

"No," he replied shortly. "I'm not wasting my energy again on that. But… I can't come with you."

Mel raised her eyebrows at him. "Say what? You're bailing?"

"What? No," Jace glared. "But, Mel, I have to stay here. Someone's gotta be here to pull you through the portal when you come back. And I'd slow you down. You gotta do what you gotta do. I'll meet you back here."

Mel bit her lip. "So you're bailing."

Jace ran a hand over his face. "No. I am waiting for you at the finish line. You don't need me, blondie. You'll stab Crowley in the face and come back. We can't risk both jumping head first in this. I'll be your plan B. So go down there and give 'em hell, you got it?"

Mel looked away, but nodded nonetheless. He was right. She'd taken him with her as a ride. But she had to do this alone and he had to stick around to give her a lift back home. Keeping that in mind, Mel took a deep breath. Time to go back to the hell she'd crawled back from.

~ **SOUNDTRACK: Halsey – Castle~**

The moment she stepped through that portal, Melody felt her blood run cold. It was a feeling that was the exact opposite of coming home. Coming back to greet one your worst nightmares. She clutched the blade so tight in her hand, her fingers hurt, and she suspected she was holding her breath. She couldn't tell from the rush.

She started putting one foot in front of the other, making her way through the long hallway. She remembered it this way exactly. A long hallway, with dozens pf passages she knew all too well where they led. She gulped loudly and her eyes wandered out of focus. She could only hear the sound of her ragged breath and screaming, so much screaming traveling down those passages. The torture rooms. Through this very corridor, she'd been dragged in front of Crowley to be offered the very freedom he'd taken away from her. And down this corridor she went to demand some answers out of the King of Hell himself.

She moved silent as a cat, flinching every now and then as the screaming of those poor tortured souls reached her, but she tried to focus on finding Crowley. Her sources had prevented her that he didn't spend as much time down here as he did on earth, but they also assured her he'd be here now. And her sources were safe. As safe as a despicable demon with its life on the line can be.

She heard footsteps approaching and she braced herself. Time to dance. She tightened her grip around the blade and, when three demons materialized in front of her, she was ready. The thrill was exhilarating and Melody was as lethal as always. No move was out of place, each step had been thoroughly calculated and three demons glowed at her feet in no time. Blood pumped fast in her veins. She tried hard not to think of how many innocent souls down here were suffering the same way she had. She had to find Crowley. Any time now. She didn't know how much longer she could bear being here. Even though Emma had taken care of healing her body, she felt as if she was still full of scars hidden beneath the surface of her skin and they itched now. Uneasiness prickled at her skin and sent shivers down her spine with every demon body she dropped.

She knew she was leaving a trail of dead bastards behind her and it didn't appear that she was getting any closer to learning where Crowley was. So when four more demons jumped her, she made sure to save one for interrogation. She held the blade right beneath his chin, her wrist itching to drive it right through its ugly skull.

"Hello, gorgeous," she smiled wickedly at the demon. "Take me to your boss or you become dead meat like your buddies."

The demon hissed at her. "Take you to the boss?" He let out a feral laugh. "He'll find you himself once word gets out you're picking on his minions. And he'll put you back on a rack where you belong, _Bennett bitch._ "

Melody rolled her eyes. She didn't want to show a stupid demon that his words got to her, but they did send a chill down her spine. Oh, she remembered the racks all too well. And the chains. And the lashes. She remembered everything. Every damn second of those twenty years. She wanted to kill this bastard even more than before, but she knew she was running out of time.

"Save it, dog," she spat at him. "I know your type. You're all big mouthed, but you value these petty lives of yours. Like they mean something to Crowley. So unless you want this blade stuck between your eyes, you're gonna take me to him. So call me a bitch and whatever you like, but I suggest you choose wisely. I'd hate for those to be your last words as this bitch gets your ass glowing like a Christmas tree."

He hissed and cussed back and forth, but ended up obliging. It came as no surprise to Melody. Weak ass demons. He led her down endless passageways and Melody bit down endless panic attacks. She couldn't afford breaking down. Not here. She'd save it for the surface. For home. For the safety of Sam's arms. For when he could kiss away her tears and sobs.

The demon stopped in front of a giant metal door and Mel came to a halt, as well. The King of Hell was behind these doors. She was steps away from her revenge, but all of a sudden, it didn't appeal to her as much as it had before. Her means had gotten her to the end. And she learned it wasn't nearly as satisfying as she would've thought.

"Peachy," she mumbled under her breath, then she turned to the demon. "Thanks from the ride. I think I got it from here."

Without as much as a warning, she stabbed him in the face. The demon's body hit the ground with a loud thud as Melody drew in a sharp breath. A giant metal door and every ounce of anger she'd had in her pounding at the doors of her soul. Perhaps she wasn't ready for this. Perhaps she'd never been. Perhaps she'd never be.

She lifted her hand and pushed the door open. This was no time for second guessing.

She stepped forward reluctantly, gripping the blade tight. She found the King of Hell in the middle of the large empty room with cold walls, his back on her, as if he was expecting someone. Perhaps he was. Perhaps he knew she was coming. Perhaps she'd lost the element of surprise and she'd find her death instead of her revenge after all.

"Squirrel 2.0.," he spoke clearly in his British accent, turning around. "Took you long enough."

So she'd suspected correctly. "You knew I was coming," she stated.

His hands in the pockets of his long black coat, he stepped forward.

"You're Dean Winchester's copycat. It was a matter of time. And when my demons started randomly dying, well, you know the rest."

She stepped towards him as well, circling him like a cat would corner its prey. Except her prey happened to be not a mouse, but a mountain lion and she was in over her head.

"A thank you card would've been enough," he mused, not looking at all intimidated. "You didn't have to come all the way here to express your undying gratitude for getting you out."

"Funny," she spat. "You know what's not undying? You. I'm here to kill you."

He looked at her sideways, as if she'd told him what was for dinner. As if she were a mere inconvenience. As if he couldn't be bothered.

"How very dramatic," he commented bored. "But I think I've seen this movie before. Never ends up well for you Winchester lot."

Melody bit off a snarl and gripped her blade tighter.

"Maybe it never got personal up until now," she retorted.

In a second, she moved so fast Crowley didn't even have time to blink and her blade was pressed against his throat. His eyebrows rose a little, but otherwise, no obvious emotion could be read across his face. It only enraged Melody more. She felt her whole body shaking with anger.

"I want answers," she hissed in his face.

"Should've made an appointment," he mocked her. "Discussing it over a cup of tea might have worked better."

"Don't shit with me, you bastard," Melody raised her voice. "There is nothing stopping me from shoving this blade in your brain."

"Then why don't you?" he spoke slowly, casually, bored. Like the edge of that blade pressing against his skin was made of cotton.

Why didn't she? Melody searched inside her head for a good enough reason. There was none. None at all. No reason whatsoever why she'd burst through those doors and hadn't dropped the King of Hell's body to the floor the second that followed.

 _Because this is bigger than you already,_ the voice of reason chimed in. _Because this is no longer just about you, no longer just about your vengeance quest._

She breathed in to calm her nerves.

"Because I have questions," she spoke with deadly calm, "that you're going to answer me."

"Naturally," he commented, but Melody didn't lower her blade.

"I died."

"Rings a bell."

"Why was I sent down here?" she snarled.

"Perhaps you've been rather naughty."

Melody walked him backwards and shoved him into a wall, her breathing coming quick and heavy. If he didn't drop this funny mood of his, she was afraid she'd end up doing something she'd regret. She wanted revenge, but not like this. Simply killing him would've left her without answers and would've fixed nothing. Not to say it would've let him off the hook way too easy.

"I said quit shitting with me," she screamed. "I didn't deserve being thrown in a cage for twenty years and to be tortured until I begged to slip into oblivion. Twenty years, Crowley."

"And what _did_ you deserve?" Crowley inquired in a low voice. "Heaven? Sorry, love, but you took that off the table when you and your sis sealed Heaven. Or what, you thought your angel friends would just let a Bennett waltz in and drink Margaritas?"

Melody gulped. She hadn't thought about that. Somehow, she doubted the angels would've been particularly nice hosts. They had a more wicked sense of mischief. Demons were brutal and torturous, but angels were smart enough to strip you of humanity and to use you as a weapon to hurt those you loved. Cas had lived to tell the tale. But she knew better than to assume Crowley had pulled her down here to save her of a tragic fate in the hands of the assholes of the Lord.

"So out the generosity of your heart," she mocked bitterly, "you gave me shelter here. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Would you have preferred to remain stuck in between?" Crowley asked. "In limbo? So that you could turn into a vengeful spirit and fry your buddy Dean's brains out? Disagree with my methods all you like, she-squirrel. I kept you safe."

He spoke the last sentence slow, lingering over every word. And Melody shuddered when she realized he actually meant that. He actually thought twenty years of torture and wishing she'd just stop existing was equivalent to safety, to charity. He was sick.

" _Safe_?" she barked. "I was less than human, you motherfucker. You didn't keep me _safe_. You kept me as leverage. The minute my body was cold, you jumped in and snatched my soul and threw me down here to use me to your benefit. Don't even pretend it was generosity that had my nails plucked and my bones broken and my back whipped by visions of Sam and Emma for all those years. So give me one good reason why I should let you live. I'm sure hell could survive without a vermin like you on the throne."

She saw the King of Hell gulp and it occurred to her that he'd finally realized she meant business. A droplet of sweat rolled off his forehead and she knew he was scared. He was just a spineless snake, shaking in his pants. He valued his life too much.

"Because I can help," he managed to get out, in the same composed voice of his; but Melody knew better. She let out a humorless laugh.

"I've seen this movie before," she repeated his words from earlier. "Didn't end well for me."

"Maybe," he agreed. "But I believe you've got bigger fish to fry this time."

Melody gritted her teeth. Right. Amara. How could she even forget? She was the reason why he was still standing before her. He was a glimpse at a solution for a desperate situation. His life depended on that solution he could or could not provide and on her patience. And the latter was running rather low.

She took a deep breath. She waited for three heartbeats. She lowered her blade.

"Alright, Your Highness. You've got three sentences to convince me to spare your life. Use 'em wisely. Cause, y'know, I ain't particularly known for being forgiving."


	17. It takes a sinner to raise hell

**CHAPTER 16 – IT TAKES A SINNER TO RAISE HELL**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Dorothy – Missile~**

"Well?" Melody prompted, rolling the blade around her fingers. "Speak up. Told ya, patience ain't my virtue."

Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets as if it weren't his life on the line. Melody wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug smirk off his face. He narrowed his eyes before replying.

"I may have a solution for your Amara issue."

Melody rolled her eyes. "'May have' doesn't save your life, Your Majesty. I suggest you get explicit."

"I have a cage. In the cage, I have a rather vicious dog. An archangel, and one who helped the big boss cast the Darkness away at the beginning of time. Out of the generosity of my heart, I'd be more than happy to lend him to you."

Melody pursed her lips and tilted her head suspiciously. "So you're willing to throw Lucifer at us. Lucifer deals with Amara and then we deal with Lucifer and Apocalypse 2.0. Out of the generosity of your heart. Forgive me if it doesn't sound that appeasing to me."

Crowley kept looking at her through narrowed eyes and he clicked his tongue. "You can't raise hell with a saint, darling. And while I'm sure your boyfriend would have to go through some severe PTSD because of it, you can't deny it's a tempting offer."

"Right," Melody crossed her arms over her chest. "And what's in it for the King of Hell? Because the generosity deal doesn't cut it for me."

The demon gave a small bored shrug. "I like to plan ahead. The pre-biblical threat with the potential to destroy the world is a bit stressful these days and I would love it taken care of."

"Right," she repeated, still convinced. "Because Lucifer would be so understanding with the guy who had the key to his cage all this time. Because he'd just let you go on with your peaceful reign over hell. I don't buy it."

Crowley rolled his eyes dramatically. "Well, luckily, there's four of you now to put him back in the cage. And I'd much rather have Lucifer come after me than Amara."

Melody had started pacing and now she stopped mid-movement, looking at Crowley wide-eyed. Crowley seemed to have realized that he'd let out more than he was supposed to, because his normally bored features had frozen.

"Spit it out, Your Majesty," Melody grabbed his collar. "You've met Amara, haven't you? What's your deal with her?"

"None at the time," he spoke in a low voice. "I've raised her and nursed her, like a father would do. But children are so ungrateful these days."

She let go of his collar and scowled. "That's just disturbing. So you were planning on using her as leverage, too. Seems like your signature move. When doom came, you wanted to be on the winning side. Too bad Amara outsmarted you."

He shoved his hands in his pockets again, mumbling something under his breath, but Melody ignored him for a minute. She needed to think.

Lucifer. On a scale from 1 to Apocalypse 2.0, how bad an idea would be to free Lucifer? And she thought about what Crowley had said about Sam and PTSD. Yes, she remembered Sam telling her about his time in the cage with Lucifer and how it had haunted him to the point of ending up in a locked ward. After everything that he'd endured, Melody doubted that Sam would be too happy with the prospect of setting loose his greatest nightmare. But still…

She paused and her breath hitched in his throat. Still… Lucifer was in a cage. So what if instead of letting Lucifer go, they'd lock Amara in with him? Would it even work? She had no idea. But it was definitely worth a shot. Locking Amara down in the cage, down in hell, and sealing the door behind them. Sam had almost closed the gates of hell once, right? And that way, the era of innocent souls going to hell would meet its end. No more souls sold. No more souls intercepted and taken away from their rightful path, like hers had been. It was a brilliant idea.

She turned to Crowley and smirked wickedly at him. She rushed to him and held the blade against his throat once more. She saw the realization slowly settle in. He knew his offer had been rejected and that there was nothing stopping her from killing him now. She wondered how many times he'd been at the Winchesters' mercy and they'd let him walk away. Did he think the same thing would happen to him now? That Melody would show him mercy and turn around? After putting her through literal hell and breaking her spirit? Then he knew nothing about her. There was nothing merciful to her right now. She was held together by rage and hatred as a broken doll would be by glue.

So _because_ she had no mercy in stock for her, she'd let him live. There were fates worse than death, and she knew it all too well.

"Listen to me, you son of a bitch," she hissed in his face. "I should drive this blade through your head for what you did to me."

Despite the terror in his eyes, Crowley mustered a smug half a smile. "But you won't, will you?"

"No, I won't," she dropped the blade from his throat, but still holding him pressed against the wall. "Because I want you to remember this. I'll work something out and I'll lock you and Amara and your buddy Lucifer up in here like canned tuna. And I want you to curse my name when they tear you apart like a meaningless worm as you did with me. I want you to remember that Melody Bennett's the one who fucked you up."

She let go of him and turned on her heels without waiting for his reaction. She went back down the same hallway, killing every demon in her path and memorizing every wail and every scream. Because she'd set them all free. She'd just declared war on hell.

She went through the portal and found Jace in the same spot in Purgatory. She was met with the same deadly silence and air charged with blood thirst. Jace had his back on her, looking stiff and frozen her place. Well, she was glad to see at least he was safe. But at a closer look, she saw a pile of dead bodies without heads and it occurred to her that his watch hadn't been as uneventful.

"I see you've been busy," she called from behind him and he turned around abruptly.

"Melody," he exhaled loudly, his chest falling in relief. "Nothing I couldn't handle. I'm so glad you're alive."

She nodded once and they looked around for more possible threats and, when they agreed that it was safe to move, they started walking toward the portal to earth. She didn't offer explanations and Jace didn't ask for them, though it was clear he was burning to. Melody sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Ask away, angel boy. You're hovering like a curious old lady at church on Sundays."

"Am not," he defended, though he didn't sound very sure. "But what happened, though? Did you kill Crowley? Did you get your answers?"

"I got some answers. But I didn't kill the bastard."

"What?" he shrieked, then looked around to make sure they hadn't been heard. "You didn't kill him? Why? I thought this was what you came here for."

"It was. But what I've got in stock for him is much, much worse."

Jace groaned. "Okay, Don Corleone. Do I even wanna know?"

"Oh, I bet you do," she shot him a wicked smile. "It's gonna be one epic war. And if this works, we'll be the winning side."

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Fall Out Boy – Jet pack blues~**

The trip back home was surprisingly quiet. They made it out of Purgatory safe and sound and Jace dropped her off in front of the bunker. After he left, Melody paused before entering.

This was so different from the last time she'd come back from hell. Last time, she'd been broken. Torn to pieces. Unfixable. She'd crawled home and the second this door opened, she'd collapsed in her sister's arms. Now, she did it on her own terms. She'd barged into hell guns blazing and she'd returned home cleansed and with a war in her back pocket.

Cleansed. As she thought the word, she realized she truly was. She'd been back to hell just so that she could drop her old broken self there. She'd shed her skin and she finally felt like the real Melody again. Now there was only one thing missing. The shelter of those strong arms she longed for.

She walked inside the bunker, devouring every moment, every sight, every step, every scent. She walked inside the library and, to her shock, Sam was there, although it was the middle of the night. She let out a soundless chuckle. Of course he was. She should've known better. She was sure he'd researched for a way to stop Amara ever since she'd left. She was also sure he hadn't gotten much sleep, worrying himself to death about her. And she didn't blame him. She hadn't been entirely sure she'd make it back alive herself.

She moved slowly and silent as a cat and he was so caught up in his work that he didn't hear her. As she stood behind him, she allowed herself a minute to just breathe him in. To just look at him and remind herself how lucky she was that he was hers. He looked like something fallen out of her wildest dreams. And he smelled like home.

She put her hands on his shoulders and he flinched under her touch, his muscles tensing in anticipation. He stood up fast and took a fighting stance that Melody couldn't help but chuckle at.

"You gonna tackle me, Winchester?" she smiled up at him. "I know you like it rough, but I'm tired and I need a shower first."

He froze and stopped breathing, his eyes wide. Melody let her hungry gaze devour every inch of him, from his parted pink lips to the crazy dance of his hair. And before she could even release a breath, his arms were around her and his nose was in her hair, inhaling her and his lips were at her temple and she pulled him close and closer until she could walk into his body and merge with him so that she could be truly his forever.

"Melody," he kept repeating. "Mel. You're here. You're back. You're alive."

"And here to stay," she murmured into his chest, into the shirt she'd soaked with tears. "I'm never leaving you again. It's over. And I'm here. And I love you."

She pulled back and caught her face in his palms, resting his forehead against hers.

"No," he breathed. "No, don't say that. Don't make promises anymore. Last time you said those words exactly, I woke up to you dead in the hallway."

"Okay," she nodded and caught his wrists, drowning in the feel of him. God, it was just like that first time all over again. Like a gasp of fresh air when she was suffocating. After she'd breathed ashes for so long.

"Good," he agreed. "God, how are you back? What did you do?"

She leaned in to kiss him chastely. Not much. She put her open lips against his and she let them shut slowly, like they knew each other's pattern by heart.

"Not now," she spoke over his lips. "Tomorrow. For now, I just wanna sleep in your arms without worrying about some impending doom."

He smiled and kissed her once more. "Sounds perfect."

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Jaymes Young – I'll be good~**

In their room, Dean watched Emma sleep. He'd done it for the past few nights, ever since they'd saved her from Amara's hands. He hadn't been able to get much sleep without waking up covered in sweat and needing to reassure himself that she was by side, safe and sound.

"You're being creepy again," she mumbled and, at first, Dean thought she was talking in her sleep. When he realized what she was saying, he chuckled.

"Sorry," he whispered and she turned in his arms to face him. "Can't sleep."

"Nightmares bothering you again?" she ran the back of her fingers across his jaw, biting her lip.

"Nothing I can't handle," he replied in a groggy voice. "'S a bit embarrassing, really. You've been through hell and I'm the one who's having trouble sleeping."

She smiled sadly. "I'm just better at handling my issues. Wanna talk about it?"

He shook his head and put his hand above hers, still resting on his cheek, and turned his head to kiss her palm.

"Nah, I'm good," he replied. "You're starting to sound like Sammy, though."

"I wonder why that might be," she mused. "And I thought we agreed to stop lying to each other."

"I'm not lying," he defended, but she glared at him.

"Dean—"

"I'm not. Really, I'm good. It just takes some getting used to knowing you're back here and not in danger anymore. I worried myself sick, you know. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd find a way to go on," she spoke fiercely and he wanted to believe her, he tried so hard to. But he knew better. Once he got to have her, there'd be no life after her. It's like when you know light so bright that when it goes out, it leaves you blind.

"Guess we'll never know," he held those thoughts to himself. "Cause I ain't never letting anything happen to you again."

"Dean, you don't know that. We're hunters. Things will happen that will—"

"I do know that," he argued. "Cause I know I'll gank whatever son of a bitch lays a hand on you again. Starting with Amara."

Emma bit her lip. She could see he meant it and that he truly believed it. But that had been the case before. Sitting here, sharing a bed with her and holding her in his arms, maybe there was nothing more that Dean wanted more than Amara's head on a spike. But facing Amara had proved to be an entirely different deal. She was certain that Dean was the only one who could point his finger in the right direction when it came to his feelings. But she was also sure that he was one stubborn bastard. If he could deny those feelings and shove them deep down, out of reach, he would do exactly that. And she couldn't let him. She had to know what to expect.

"I mean it, Emma," he spoke when he saw the doubt in her eyes. "This ain't like before. I can't explain it. Whatever attraction, whatever bond was between me and Amara before, I could feel it shattering the moment she took you. Like glass breaking. There's nothing there anymore. Emma, I carried your body and I lived without knowing if you'd live or if you'd die in my arms while I couldn't do anything to save you. There's no coming back from that."

Emma bit her lip and traced every line on his face with her fingertips. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. These moments of peace were so rare that they knew they had to devour it while they could.

"Okay," she whispered and leaned in to touch his lips with hers chastely. "I believe you. We'll figure it out. Tomorrow. Go to sleep now."

She didn't wait for his answer before turning around with her back on him. Dean wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer and this time, he knew sleep would come.


	18. All's fair in love and war

**CHAPTER 17 – ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Ruelle – Fear on fire~**

Sam woke up the next morning to an empty bed and panic rose in his throat. It took him a while to calm down before admitting it would take a longer while to get used to not worrying about Melody anymore. Though he'd probably never grow out of the habit. He loved her too much to ever cease to want to protect her at any cost.

He got out of bed and put on some clothes, assuming Melody was already up and in the library or having breakfast. He wouldn't have been surprised if she'd still had some trouble sleeping after going back to hell, though Sam didn't remember her waking up from some nightmare this time. She'd given him a short insight of her adventure the previous night, but they'd been so wrapped up in each other that they'd eventually agreed to postpone it until morning.

Sam made his way down the hallways and into the library, where he saw Emma and Melody chatting excitedly. Clearly Emma had forgiven her sister for not letting her know she'd been back last night. Sam lingered in the background for a moment, trying to calm down his nerves. It felt a bit unreal that Melody was back safe and sound after all the times when he'd had to talk himself out of acknowledging the slim chances that she'd make it out alive. He'd already been making plans to march to hell and break her out if that were to be the case. He'd never lose her again.

And now here she was and she looked… fine. Sure, she was a little beaten up, covered in some bruised and scrapes, but Sam had long since made his habit to kiss them all until they became no more than shallow marks of where she'd been and the ass she'd kicked. But other than those, she looked so serene. She looked like her old self, before dying. Like the girl who cried 'Surprise, motherfuckers' to an army of angels. Like the girl who rode away from her problems on a motorcycle and then drank them away. Like the girl he'd kissed in the rain what seemed like a lifetime ago. He dared to hope, just for a second, that she was back. Then he sighed and stepped into the library.

"Hey," he shot Mel a smile, and she broke into one of her own. "How'd you sleep?"

She grinned even wider as she gazed into his eyes. "Like a baby."

Sam's eyebrows shot up. Well, that was a first. He took into consideration that she may have been hiding it from him, but it didn't feel like a lie. And if it was, she seemed to have convinced herself, too. And on a closer look, he did notice the dark circles under her eyes were a little duller and her skin a little lighter.

Before he could reply, Dean emerged from the kitchen with Jace following, carrying four beers. Sam frowned. He tried hard to keep his petty jealousy on a leash. He knew Mel loved him and he knew the angel was a means to an end, so whatever fire torched his insides at his sight, he told himself it was misplaced.

"What's he doing here?" he tried to ask calmly, but it still came out a bit harsh and Mel rolled her eyes.

"Helping," she replied simply, and Sam knew better than to question her.

"She's got this crazy plan," Jace clarified, falling into a chair and resting his feet on the table. "I figured you guys might need and extra mouth to bite her ear off about it."

Mel glared. "Unlikely."

Sam looked between the two of them, clearly not catching the point they were trying to make. Yeah, Melody had a lot to catch them up with.

"Yo, Sammy," Dean called, grinning wide. "You heard? Benny's sending his regards. He's still kicking down in Purgatory."

"Benny?" Sam frowned. "Huh."

"Who's Benny?" Emma asked and Sam smiled lightly. Yeah, it sucked to be left in the dark.

"How about you start at the beginning?" he turned to Mel and suggested. "Clearly there's a long story."

She pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair, taking a sip of her beer before replying. "Pretty long. But I'm gonna start at the end. So that you guys know what I got us into."

Emma groaned and ran her palms over her face. "I hate it when your stories start like that. Spit it out. What did you do?"

For a second, Sam could've sworn she looked ashamed. Whatever it was that she'd done, he could tell by her expression that it was pretty huge. But just as he was about to reach and take her hand and reassure her that they were here for her regardless of the battles they had to fight, her expression shifted. A wicked foxy grin broke across her lips and her eyes glinted. Oh, yes, it was huge. But she wasn't ashamed. She was excited.

"I've declared war on hell."

Five steady heartbeats filled the silence as Emma and the Winchesters processed. Then a hell of their own broke loose in the bunker's library.

"Yeah, I don't think I'm following," Dean scratched his head. "So, you didn't gank Crowley. Which ain't exactly good, cause that son of a bitch had it coming for a while. So you let him go and, what, you called war?"

"Pretty much," Mel pursed her lips.

Sam shook his head, still trying to make sense of it. "So I get what you wanna gain out of it. Locking hell up. Locking Amara there. But why? I'm sure we could find a more permanent solution. I mean, we all know that every seal ends up being broken. Maybe in a year, maybe in five, maybe in five hundred years, some poor idiot will follow in my footsteps and make a mistake. And then the Darkness will return, angrier and thirstier for revenge against the world. Why not just find a way to kill her for good and make sure that doesn't happen?"

Mel ran a hand through her hand, not looking entirely eager to offer an answer, so Jace stepped in.

"Putting aside the fact that you've been having issues finding that permanent solution," he trailed off, and Sam glared, "let's just say this'll kill two birds with one stone. We get rid of the Darkness. And Melody gets her revenge."

All of them were quiet for a moment, processing, and Emma was the first to break the silence.

"Is that it? You're still hung up on your revenge?"

Melody shot up from her chair and leaned forward with her palms on the table, her eyes sparkling with rage. So maybe deep beneath the surface, the Melody that hell had broken was still licking her wounds. Perhaps she'd always be there and she would just have to learn how to better bury her.

"It's not about revenge," she snapped. "I've chased that end and it got me nothing. Revenge doesn't fix you. But you don't know what it's like. Walking down those passages and listening to innocent people scream in pain and terror just the way I did. I want to put an end to it. No more demon claws digging into weak minds and exploiting them. The way I know it, good people go to heaven and bad people go to hell. Not one innocent soul has to suffer."

They all stayed quiet. It was true. They'd closed their eyes on it for too long, but truth demanded to be acknowledged. How many poor idiots had been thrown into eternal damnation just because they didn't know better? Just because they'd been in the wrong bar, at the wrong crossroads, in the middle of the wrong battle. It wasn't fair. And Melody wished no one the despair and the terror she'd crawled out of.

"I know," Dean broke the silence, and all eyes turned to him surprised. "I know what that's like. I felt that way for a long time. So count me in, Rapunzel. There's nothing I'd love more than to give hell a taste of its own medicine. Especially if we can give some innocent souls the freedom they deserve."

"I do, too," Sam continued before Mel got a chance to reply. "I do know what it's like. I went to hell to get Bobby. I've heard those screams. And I agree with you, it's not fair. I'm in."

"Well, it's not like I was walking away from it," Emma concluded, and Mel looked from one face to the others before falling back into her chair and letting out a relieved sigh.

"Oh, good," she smiled. "So no civil war for today."

The person who jumped to his feet in exasperation was Jace, unexpectedly enough. Melody raised her eyebrows at him, but as it rarely happened, Jace seemed in no mood for jokes.

"Have you all lost your mind?" he shrieked. "I was counting on you, dumb heads, to knock some sense into her."

"Hey—" Dean started offended, but Jace didn't wait for him to finish.

"War on hell, Melody? Do you even hear yourself? It's four people against Crowley, his schemes and an army of demons. You stand no chance. You have noble intentions and all that, but good hearts get you killed. They don't say that the road to hell is paved with good intentions for nothing. Y'all are gonna end up on racks and in chains. You're fighting a hopeless battle."

He turned on his heels to leave, but Melody caught his arm and turned him around. And because he could never turn her down, he stayed. Even if she'd never meant for him to, he always stayed. There was a fine line between not leaving and staying. Sam stayed. Jace wanted to stay, too. But all there was to it was that he could never bring himself to leave. So when Mel turned him around, he didn't have the will power to keep walking.

"You're a hypocrite," she hissed at him. "Judging our hopeless battles and noble intentions. Not all of us have to go hide in the bushes when threats arise."

Jace flinched. "Yeah. I deserved that."

She let go of his arm and fire flared in her eyes. "No, you didn't! Grow a spine, dammit. Fight for something you care about for once."

"I did, Melody," he lowered his voice, though he was aware of all eyes on him, especially Sam's. "I fought for you."

Mel blinked at the implication and her shoulders hunched a little, but she stood her ground. She always stood her ground. And Jace admired her all the more for it.

"Then you chose the wrong motivation," she softened her voice, keeping it sharp to the edges. "I'm a fragile human, Jace. A soldier. But we have a cause. Ever since I came back from hell, I've felt like I was wasting this second chance I'd been given. Wasting it on sulking and getting drunk and running from my feelings. Now I wanna use it to do something that's worth. What did you do with your second chance ever since you fell on earth?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets, refusing to acknowledge how close to his heart her words hit. It was a good speech. Motivational, even. Melody had it in her. But what she was hoping to move in him had been long since asleep. She was the only one who had ever gotten close to awakening it, ever since Keri. His second chance had been used for glimpsing at humanity. First through a girl who had been taken away from him. Then through a girl who didn't want him. But he just wasn't meant to fight for causes.

"Sorry, blondie," he forced a smile and shrugged indifferently. "I ain't your guy. I promised to help you however I could and I did. It seems like you don't need me anymore. You've got your family to have your back. Call me if you ever want to go looking for trouble again."

With that, he raised two fingers to his forehead and saluted before turning on his heels and letting himself out.

Melody sighed, trying not to think of how much it stung to see him leave. But she'd known it would happen eventually. Jace said it himself. He was a lost boy, as rogue a soul as he was a rogue angel. And Melody had a war to fight and a hunter to love. And herself to mend back to sanity, still. Jace was a lost boy, but she wasn't the one to go find him.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Adam Lambert – Ghost town (guitar version)~**

Jace leaned against his motorcycle and searched his jacket for a packet of cigarettes. Angels had few bad habits aside from manipulation and ruthless murder, because addictions didn't tend to stick when you weren't corporeal, when you were just some flying shiny smoke inhabiting a meat suit. But he enjoyed the gesture. The motions. The feeling of his host's lungs filling with gray smoke and burning and then exhaling what resembled so well the ashes that he felt filled his insides.

He put the cigarette between his lips and lit it up, watching the clouds rolling by in the distance. The morning was quiet and so was his mind. Nature was still and so was his heart. The ash fell on the ground slowly, carried by a lazy breeze. Jace couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. He compelled himself to regret the moment he'd approached Melody in that shady bar.

 _Whiskey. Neat._

 _Let's drink up, Jace._

He wanted to regret having met up with her in that alley, two motorbikes side by side, blue eyes gazing into green emeralds.

 _Hey there, blondie._

 _You just couldn't wait to see me again._

Oh, how he wanted to regret fighting side by side with her. And how, after the rush of the war, all he wanted was to make out with her. To put out each other's fires. Though her fire had responded to other flames than his.

' _S too bad the hero doesn't get the girl, though._

And maybe he could have lived with that, a broken angel and a blonde with an attitude working together to get rid of a mutual enemy. But not everything that came after that. He willed himself to regret all the time they'd spent together ever since she'd asked for his help with her quest for revenge. He wanted to take back the jokes. The casual bickering. The drinking together. That damn kiss. The star gazing.

 _Jace, you cocky bastard. I need you to make yourself useful._

 _For you, anytime._

 _I missed having you around._

 _Would you have come to drag me out from the depths of hell?_

 _Well, yeah._

 _Just needed someone to talk to._

 _Whatever freedom you're after, I don't think I can give it to you._

 _You're the only person I care about._

 _When everything else started feeling shaky, you were there for me._

 _You're not like most girls, are you?_

 _I ain't stupid, blondie. I never stood a chance._

Yeah, he never had. He'd been stupid to even hope for a tiny minute. And that's why he wanted to regret Melody and everything that had to do with her. He'd been healing, ever since Keri's death. He'd been pulling himself together, but then Melody came along to ruffle his feathers. And he wanted to regret it.

But he couldn't bring himself to. Not one second of it. Humanity was bittersweet. So what if Melody had been a more bitter memory rather than sweet? He held on to it. He still didn't get the girl, but the girl had been someone else's to begin with. He was glad for Melody having given his immortal and still heart the privilege of feigning the shadow of a racing pulse. It was a privilege to be abandoned by the hurricane that Melody Bennett. Cause when a hurricane hits and it tears everything to pieces, all that's left to do is rebuild from the core. And he could do that. He had eternity.

He finished his cigarette and threw it on the ground, putting it off with the heel of his shoe. He heart footsteps behind him and he dared to hope it was Melody, coming after him and asking him to stay. But when he turned around, it was only Sam. Damn human and their stupid hopes.

"If you're here to knock my teeth out for hanging out with your girlfriend, you should know I was forced into it against my will. I feared for my life."

Sam actually shot him half a smile. "I know her well enough to actually buy that. But no, I'm not here for that."

"Then why are you here?" Jace crossed his arms over his chest. "Whatever you may have figured out about my feelings for her, you should know they're one sided. She's nuts over you. So don't punch my teeth out for that, either. Though I could probably take you. Immortal angel and all that."

"I'm not here for that, either," Sam rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "I'm here to thank you, Jace."

At first he was shocked and he could only stare, gaping. Then he burst into laughter. Then he climbed his bike and considered leaving Sam here with his thanks and his nobility. He didn't need to be reminded that, for Melody, there had never actually been any choice.

But he didn't leave. Sitting on his bike, he just stared at Sam.

"You wanna thank me for wanting to steal your girlfriend?" he tilted his head. "Just making sure I've got the facts straight."

"I wasn't aware you were actually trying to steal her," Sam mused, as if the admission couldn't bother him. "But I do know you've kept her in line when I couldn't be there for her. When she wanted your help and didn't call for mine. She might as well be alive because of you. So thank you. Jace."

The angel simply stared at Sam, his lips slightly parted and eyes narrowed.

"You're a good guy, Winchester," he spoke eventually. "But keep up with her, mate. Otherwise, you might end up being left behind. She ain't the kind o'girl to wait for no one."

Sam cracked a laugh. "I'm more painfully aware of that than you can ever know."

"Believe me, mate," Jace put on his helmet. "I do know."

Sam's laugh faded, but he kept a sad smile plastered on his face. Jace had the feeling he could see through more than what he was comfortable to let him peak at. Like Sam understood something that Jace was still having trouble sorting out.

"I have a feeling we'll see more of each other," Sam commented, and Jace barked a laugh before starting his motorcycle and driving away.


	19. Save me from myself

**CHAPTER 18 – SAVE ME FROM MYSELF**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Royal Deluxe – Born for this~**

When Sam walked back inside the bunker, he found three pairs of eyes staring back at him cautiously. He frowned at the Bennett girls and at his brother. He could sense he'd walked in on a delicate discussion. Dean turned to Melody, his features sharp as a knife.

"C'mon, Rapunzel," he prompted. "Tell Sammy your terrific plan."

Sam looked between them, confused. "What'd I miss?"

Melody sighed and stood up, crossing her arms over her chest. Sam knew that little expression on her face. Maybe she was done with chasing revenge and spitting rage left and right. But that expression told him she was not done jumping head first into danger, recklessly, and worse, excitedly. Her features were hard, but her eyes glinted with the rush of danger. Whatever this plan of hers was, he wasn't going to like it.

"Okay, so," she started, scratching the back of her head, "remember how I wanted to lock up hell?"

Sam raised his arms, not following her plan. "Yes, Melody, I was here like five minutes ago when we _talked_ about it. What's your point?"

"Well, you're not gonna like how I plan to do that."

Sam closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before letting himself drop into a chair and taking in a deep breath. Of course there was a catch with her. He'd seen it coming. Her schemes became rather predictable after a while.

"Hit me up," he mumbled.

She forced half a grin his way. "So, remember those trials you had going on a while ago?"

Sam's eyes widened and, for a second, he was left speechless. He was actually waiting for Melody to laugh in his face as if this was nothing but a really not funny prank she'd decided to play on him. He actually chuckled, which soon turned into hysterical laughter. He knew it wasn't a prank when no one else laughed, but somehow, he couldn't stop. Because this was, if anything, crazy ironic.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye when he saw all three of them looking at him like he'd just lost it. "I could've sworn you were gonna suggest completing the demon trials."

None of them answered, so Sam tilted his head. "Which can't be. Because as far as I recall, I almost _died_ trying to do that, and I'm not sure they came up with a cure for _not_ dying in the process. So it has to be a joke, because otherwise, it's impossible."

"Thank you very much, your Dorkiness," Dean mumbled, bracing his arms on the table. "You just summed up what we've been trying to tell your girlfriend while you were gone. Maybe you'll have more luck."

"Melody, there has to be another way," Emma intervened. "One that doesn't involve one of us sacrificing everything and dying. I think I speak from experience when I say none of us has it in them to go through losing another person they love. Again. We'll find something else."

"Dammit, you guys!" Melody threw her hands in the air, pacing back and forth. "Are you that thick-headed? There is no other way. Maybe we'll figure out a way to _not_ die, but in the meantime, those trials are our best shot. While we're sitting here biting each other's heads off, Amara is out there wreaking havoc. And make no mistake, she'll come for us. She'll come for you, Em, and she'll come for Dean. We don't got no time to waste."

Sam stood up, too and shook his head, moving to stand in front of her. "Wait, so you were serious? You actually mean to tell me you're ready to give one of us up for the greater good? _Again?_ Melody, I thought we've established that we're a team, and we're done leaving people behind."

Melody gulped, and Sam knew her so well, he practically heard the words catching shape in her head even before she uttered them.

"We're not leaving people behind," she said slowly. "And we're not giving any of us up. I chose to do this."

"Oh, you chose to do this," Sam mocked, feeling the rage bubbling up in his chest. "Of course. How stupid of me to think we had a saying in it. Melody, we just got you back. You can't just—"

"I'll do it."

Three pairs of eyes turned to Emma, who was sitting casually in her chair, sipping on her beer like she had no care in the world. Like speaking of her potential marching to death could not bother her at all. Sam saw Dean's eyes widen and he could tell he was about to rain fireballs on Emma's bravery/stupidity.

"Ha," Melody clicked her tongue. "Nice try, midget."

Emma narrowed her eyes at her sister. "Watch it, golden girl. I'm still older."

"No, I'm sorry," Mel crossed her arms over her chest. "I just found it funny that you would waltz in yet again trying to take this from me. You fought your war, Emma, and you won it. You made me sit on the bleachers and watch you save our asses from the angel army. Sacrificing yourself. You've saved me enough times. I think it's time I return the favor. This one's on me. After all that I've been through, I need to bring a victory, even if it costs you guys me."

"Actually," a raspy voice came from behind them. "I must side with Emma on this. She is the more preferable choice in the matter."

All four of them turned around to see an all-too-human Cas coming down the stairs of the bunker, his usual trench coat replaced by layers of unnecessary clothing. A true Winchester.

"Color me shocked," Melody mumbled under her breath at his statement, while Emma gasped, sat up and ran to throw her arms around the former angel's neck. Cas tensed, but after a while, he returned the hug. Mel almost snorted. What was it about Bennett girls and breaking angel hearts?

"Cas," Emma breathed. "What are you doing here? I thought you were still in hiding."

"I was," the angel replied. "But Adriel called. He told me about your plan, trying to get me to talk you out of it. But I know you all well enough to know that's futile, so I have thought it all through. You need all the help you can get, and I believe I can be of assistance."

"Well," Melody raised her arms in exasperation as Cas sat in a chair in front of her, "other than offering a perfectly useless opinion, you're welcome to try, Your Featherlessness."

Emma glared. "Melody—"

"No, Em," she stood up. "I'm done arguing about it. You're always the one who gets to have the last word. Well, you won't have this one. I have made my choice."

"You will kill yourself in the process," Cas remarked.

"I don't care!"

"But Emma can survive it," Cas retorted calmly, and the entire room fell silent. Dean and Sam froze with their eyebrows raised, Emma tilted her head in confusion and curiosity and Melody looked as if she'd just been slapped across the face.

"What?" she mumbled slowly, and Cas sighed before replying.

"Emma used her angel grace when she saved Dean and broke the sigil of the Darkness, but there are still residues of it within her. Such power never fades away. While your grace, Melody, when she absorbed it from you, is entirely gone. To the very last drop. That tiny amount of angel grace might make the difference between surviving these trials or dying trying."

" _Might_?" Dean intervened. "Might make a difference? We're going on possibilities again? It's kind of a big gig here, Cas, ya feel me? I don't feel like risking Emma's life on a _might_."

"I do," Emma simply shrugged, like it didn't faze her. "It's more than Melody has. More than any of us has, really. Right now, I have more grace than anyone in this room, and that includes a guy who used to be an angel. I'm the best shot."

The brothers fell into deep thought and Melody felt like shouting and breaking stuff and arguing further. But even she had to admit it was a fair shot. It was logical and practical, while her jumping head first into danger might have had a more fatal finality. Eventually, she sighed, defeated, and fell into a chair.

"It'll work," Cas reassured them. "It's not an exact science and it's not perfect certainty. But I'm confident in your odds, Emma. You're the most mentally stable and the steadiest member of this family." He paused and looked around. "No offense."

Dean actually laughed and slapped his friend on the back. "None taken, buddy. If you say this has a real shot, I'm buying it."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "So you're okay with me actually going through with the trials?"

"Hell no," Dean glared. "But I know I can't stop you once you make up your mind. And Cas is right. You're the one who's less likely to die. I just hope that's enough."

Emma looked at him ruefully and reached to run a hand through his hair. "Me, too," she replied.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Cloves – Don't you wait~**

Dean closed the door behind him and he allowed his brain to photograph Emma the way she looked right now. God, she was gorgeous. He didn't think he could ever not be blown to bits when watching her from afar. He shared a bed with her every night, but still, these little moments, these honest bits were what made him love her all the more for them. She pulled her hair up in a loose ponytail. She rubbed her neck. She turned her back on him, grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, then slipped into one of the T-shirts she'd stolen from him. She walked inside the bathroom. She came out only seconds later, brushing her teeth absent-mindedly as she paced back and forth through the room. She went back inside the bathroom and came back again with a small smile plastered on her face that Dean knew she reserved just for him. She sat in the armchair by the window, her smooth legs tucked under her, and grabbed the book she'd started a few days ago and began reading.

A few minutes later, when she finally noticed that Dean hadn't moved, she raised her head from her book and regarded him confused.

"You okay, Dean?"

Dean smiled goofily at her and finally stepped forward. "All good," he replied. "I just love watching you fuss around before bed."

Emma rolled her eyes, but he could see the faint blush coloring her cheeks as she resumed her reading. He loved that, too. The way she rolled her eyes when she thought he was a dork. The way she shook her head when she thought he was _really_ a dork. The way she bit her lip when she was absorbed in a book. He loved it all. Eventually, he moved and changed into sweatpants, opting to stay shirtless in case it distracted his nerdy girlfriend enough to ditch that book of hers and join him in bed. He slipped under the covers and directed his smolder full-power at her. She remained immune. This woman.

"Come on, baby, come to bed," he pleaded, and she didn't even raise her gaze.

"Can't. Gotta finish this tonight."

And he could read her like a book. He could tell by the crease in her brows and by the way her eyes fell that she wasn't paying that much attention to the book as she pretended to. And if she had been anything like him, Dean would've let her work through her stuff on her own until she either felt comfortable enough to talk it out or until she would have repressed it enough. But she wasn't like him. She was like Sammy, and they liked to talk about their feelings. Like a hornet's nest poked with a stick.

"Hey," he prompted. "You good?" No answer. "Emma. C'mere, short stuff."

She finally looked up, hesitantly, but eventually, Dean saw her defense fall as she placed her book down on the nightstand. She sighed and climbed on the bed, snuggling into Dean's side like a warmth-seeking incredibly cute parasite. God, he loved this woman so much it messed with his head sometimes.

"Let it out," he caressed her hair. "Let it out, baby. It's okay not to be okay. Wanna talk about it?"

He expected her to have a runny nose and for tears to glint on his bare chest and for her voice to shake. But when she answered, she sounded suspiciously well-pulled together.

"No," she tried, but it came as more of a question. "Yes? I don't know. I guess. It's just that thing that Cas said."

"Which one?" Dean prompted, kissing the top of her head.

"About how I'm the steadiest one. The most well-kept together. The sanest. I guess I just don't feel like that anymore."

Dean pulled back a little to watch her face. She did look a little shaken, but on her, it seemed more as confusion, like a puzzle she couldn't solve, a riddle whose answer she could not figure out. Dean guessed it ain't exactly easy when you become the very riddle that's giving you a hard time.

"Why would that be so tragic?" he questioned, and she simply shrugged.

"It's not. I don't know. Or maybe it is. Because, Dean, I felt like I had to be the one who stayed sane while all of you guys had it bad. Mel died. You were a demon and now Amara's all over you. Sam's still dealing with losing Melody and not feeling like he got her back even after she returned from hell. I was the only one who didn't wake up screaming or covered in sweat or panting in the middle of a night from some nightmare. It felt good to know I was the one that held you guys together."

"And now?" Dean whispered in her hair.

She took in a shaky breath before continuing. "And now, Amara got to my head. And I can't shake her. I flinch when I hear loud noises around me. I still feel every minute of torture when she had her way with me. I still hear her and I still feel like every moment is a struggle to not give in and not believe her when she tells me that no one's coming for me. That she'll kill me and that she'll destroy the world, all except you. And I would've doomed the whole world, Dean, if only to know you'd be safe. And I'm having nightmares. That's a new one for me. So yeah, I guess it's kind of a tough time for me to stay sane and steady on my feet."

Dean held her a little tighter. "You know you don't have to, right? We break down all the time and we still manage to fight our fight just right. Amara broke some bits of you, Emma. But she didn't break your spirit. You're still a tough girl. And you're allowed to break down from time. It ain't a crime."

"I can't," she argued, clutching the covers in her fists. "I gotta stay tough. I gotta do these trials and secure this world, even a little bit, for us to live in it. I wanna make it safe. I'll fight another war, again, and I'll win it, again."

"You will," Dean murmured, kissing her forehead. "Tomorrow. Tonight, you're allowed to cry for all that Amara took from you. I'll talk you through it, I promise. I ain't leaving you alone. Not now, not ever again."

That night, guided by his words and his soothing and his hands in her hair and his kisses at her temples, Emma broke down. Then she fell asleep in Dean's arms, her cheeks still wet with tears. Dean held her through the night, tightening his grip on her if her breathing even hitched. Not long after dawn, Emma awoke, still feeling a little broken, but maybe like she could deal with it. Then they left to yet another war.

 **I cannot tell you how sorry I am for how long it took me to update. Terribly, terribly sorry. I've been dealing with some writer's block that I never got before, when I literally opened Word and could not write a single word. But it's over, I promise. I'm good as new, and I'll make it up to you guys. By maybe not killing any other characters this time? Yeah, can't promise that. Sorry, fellas. *evil laughter***

 **So I hope you liked this chapter, even though it's awfully short. More is on the way.**

 **Lemme know what ya think! Lots of love,**

 **xoxo**


	20. Hell bound

**CHAPTER 19 – HELL BOUND**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Kaleo – Way down we go~**

"So let me run this trough again," Emma closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples. "Three trials. Bathe in the blood of a hell hound. Free someone from hell. Cure a demon. Am I getting it right?"

Four grim faces looked back at her. "Yes," Cas answered. "I now it's a lot, but you'll take it one at a time and we'll all be there and watch out for you."

Emma sighed and buried her face in her palms. "Christ," she breathed, and Dean rubbed her shoulders.

"'S alright, baby," he reassured her. "We got your back."

Emma looked at her sister, but Melody simply shrugged. "Don't look at me, big sis. I did offer to take it off your shoulders. You're the one who picked up the burden. But we sure as hell ain't gonna let you fall down on the way."

Emma nodded and she felt Sam's eyes on her, intense and silent, but when she settled her gaze on him, he chose to stay silent and avert his. Odd, she thought. Sam never missed the chance for a good pep talk. But she just shrugged it off and focused on the matter at hand. They had no time to lose anymore. Amara was out there and she was pissed. The trials had to be completed, soon and fast.

"Alright," she breathed shakily. "Hell hounds. How do we get ourselves one?"

They all sat down at the table in the library and, on more familiar grounds this time, Sam jumped into business mode and opened his laptop.

"Same way Dean and I did when I went through the trials," he said. "I dug up some articles from this period of time ten years ago, see if there were any unusual signs of demonic deals."

"And?" Dean rubbed his chin and Sam turned the laptop toward his brother, the former angel, and the Bennett sisters.

"And get this. There's this family somewhere in Iowa. Turns out the wife was pretty sick when she gave birth to her kid and barely delivered. The doctors said she suffered from some rare illness and told her she wouldn't survive the week. Couple days later, she's walking out of the hospital healthy, good as new. She and her husband took their kid out and the doctors declared it one of the great medical mysteries."

"Kind of a long shot, though," Emma commented.

"I thought so, too. But then I cross-referenced all the information I found with police reports from that period and there were lots of demonic omens. Weather changes, locals reporting gas leaks after they smelled sulfur. I say it's a shot."

Emma sighed. They could all tell she was restless and out of her element. It was a new sight on her, Melody thought. But then again, perhaps even infuriatingly selfless Emma had grown tired of sacrifices and not being able to enjoy at least the phantom, the mirage of a quiet life next to the man she loved. Still, however, she pushed a smile and braced her arms on the table.

"Alright, folks. So how are we doing this?"

She saw Sam regarding her curiously for a few seconds before replying. But Emma didn't feel like insisting any more that she was fine when they all knew she wasn't, so she let it slide and pretended to ignore Sam's concerned glances.

"Same way me and Dean did it before," Sam replied eventually. "Three days from now, it'll have been ten years since they supposedly made the deal, by my estimations. So they must be familiar with the idea that something's coming for them to claim that life debt. They should be more than happy to let us help with the threat of being dragged to hell."

"I see," Emma muttered. "And how do I kill it? How do I kill the hell hound? And how do I see it? Dean said only the one they're after are able to see them."

Before she could even finish the sentence, Dean placed a few items before them and started pointed at them one by one.

"Glasses scorched with holy fire," he started. "Lets you see those fugly motherfuckers. Real fugly, trust me. You've been warned. Rock salt works on them, but it only slows them down. We'll be there shooting the bastard with it to buy you time. You'll likely have your angel blade on you, and that can kill them just fine, but in case you don't wanna get close enough to it, here. This is a better option."

He handed her the Colt, which Emma eyed reluctantly. Eventually, raising her gaze to Dean just to see him watching her with warmth and concern, and she took the gun from his hand.

"And this can kill it?" she made sure.

"Damn right it can," Dean said reassuringly. "Then you can pull a Marie Antoinette on its ass and take a bloody bath."

Emma frowned. "Dean, that's not… Marie Antoinette didn't…"

Dean shushed her. "Don't be mean. Let me have just this one. Just one tiny victory."

"But Dean—"

"Shush, short stuff. Pretend, for the sake of loving me, alright?"

Emma bit down a smile at his childish pout that she suddenly wanted so badly to kiss it. But before she could tease him for it, Melody stepped forward and cleared her throat.

"Actually, there is this one serial killer who used to bathe in the blood of her victims. Elizabeth—"

"Bathory," Sam finished for her, smiling from ear to ear. "I knew I loved you for a reason."

Dean looked from Sam to Melody back and forth a few times, like he was trying to make sense of them.

"That was disturbing and totally unnecessary," he commented, but Sam and Mel were too busy making eyes at each other over their freakish hobby. But Emma smiled. She had to admit, wasn't love all about finding the one person who's twisted in all the right ways to match your twists? She looked at Dean, who fake gagged at his brother and best friend. Oh yes, Emma thought. Twisted in all the right ways.

"Kay, guys," she spoke up, feeling a bit more confident now. "We can't waste any more time. Let's go gank ourselves a nice little hell hound."

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Sweeplings – In too deep~**

Emma left her sister, the boys and Cas in the library to settle on the details of their departure while she took a shower. Dean commented on the uselessness of a shower at this time considering it wouldn't be long until a nice long bath in hell hound blood, but his joke, though innocent and well-intentioned, hit a bit too low for her taste. Still, she cracked a smile and refused to let them know how truly scared she was.

She made her way down the hallways and to her room when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned around bearing the hope that Dean had seen through her once more, realized how in over her head she felt and had come to comfort her. But behind her stood Sam, his hands tucked in his pockets.

"Hey," he started, a bit sheepish; truth was, ever since Mel had come back from hell and they'd saved Dean, she and Sam hadn't really spent time together. It was like they didn't really know how to anymore, and in all honesty, they felt a bit ashamed to. They'd walked side by side through a very dark time of their lives. They'd seen each other at their worst and maybe, just maybe, every smile they saw on each other's face now somehow felt as a reminder of those times when even the ghost of a smile on their lips hurt.

"Hey," Emma replied. "What's the matter? I thought you guys were gonna stick around and do some more planning."

Sam pursed his lips in a thin line, as if considering whether to truly talk about what he was here to talk about. He must have made up his mind, because he spoke eventually.

"Em," he said softly. "There's no more planning. But none of us are stupid and we all love you. Give us some credit. We knew you needed some time alone to deal with… everything."

Emma crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly slipping into defense mode.

"If you guys were so smart and figured it out, then why are you here?" she snapped, but instantly regretted it. This was Sam. Her soul twin. Her best friend. And he'd approached her with the best of intentions. Luckily, his face showed no sign that the question had bothered him. He took a few steps forward towards her.

"I'm here because I've stood where you're standing now, Emma," he said in a low, warm voice. "I've felt what you're feeling, so trust me when I say I can pretty much outline everything you're going through right now. All the more because we're doppelgangers. Every though that's going through your head right now, I've thought it, too. So if you need someone to talk to about it, I'm your guy."

He finished with a smile and looked as if he was considering turning on his heels and leaving when Emma didn't answer. But could she talk about it to him? To anyone? She'd struggled for so long to stay tough and to fight her way through every hardship that came her way that she didn't know what to do with this frustrating weakness in her bones right now. Talking about it didn't sound like a way to improve that feeling of helplessness. Talking about it would only confirm out loud how weak she felt and how badly she feared that she was gonna fail, and she was not ready to admit that. To herself. Let alone to anyone.

But she watched Sam stand in front of her with those wide puppy eyes and that warm heart opened to her as to a little sister. He was genuinely interested and worried about her and he was, after all, her twin soul and her best friend. There would be no better suited person to confide in.

"What's it gonna be like?" she asked in a small voice. "They nearly killed you last time."

"Theoretical answer or spiritual one?"

Emma cracked a smile at that. "You know me, Winchester. Hit me with theory."

"Here goes," Sam sighed. "When I was the one going through the trials, Cas told me they were modifying my soul. Altering it to a molecular level, so subtle and intense that even he couldn't heal me. Long story short, it took possession by an angel and Cas completing the healing in smaller sessions to make me whole again."

Emma gnawed on her lip. "Sounds promising." She offered a tentative, tired smile. "Just when I thought I knew everything about you guys."

He ignored her remark and caught her shoulder. "That's the catch, Em. This is why you may actually have a shot at this, a more solid one that any of us. The way Cas put it, you still have traces of raw grace, pure and unaltered. That grace can work to heal that molecular damage as it appears, before it can get as bad as I was."

Emma sighed and rubbed her face. "I see. What about the spiritual answer?"

Sam smiled at her and ruffled her hair, making her scowl at him. "The 'you're-not-alone' pep talk. Seriously. We've got your back. All four of us. Feel like hearing all that speech again?"

Emma smiled a real smile this time as she playfully shoved his shoulder. "Save it," she mused. "I think I'm good."

Sam flicked her nose and they both chuckled. "You'll survive this, Em. And you'll save the world. Again. Typical day for us Winchesters."

 _Us Winchesters._ Emma's heart leapt at the words. Family. They were real family, for better or for worse. She and Melody had lost their true family all those years ago, back in U.K. But they had found another one here. A family. Two men who loved them, a clueless former angel and a dog. Could she ask for more? So when she answered to Sam, she found herself actually believing it.

"I'll survive this," she agreed. "And I'll save the world. And all of your sorry asses. Again. Typical day for us Winchesters.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Royal Deluxe – The prayoff~**

As they should've expected, the family they looked for was no longer in Iowa. When they looked for Emily and Richard Parker, they were told they had moved away right after their son had been born. It took some digging, but for hunters, nothing stayed hidden for long. They tracked them two states away, in a small town in Ohio, under the names of Elizabeth and John Smith. Inconspicuous, they had to give them that, given how they'd literally chosen the most common names they could have thought of.

Less than 36 hours later, the Impala pulled into their driveway. They had to hurry, since they were on a clock. By Sam's estimations, they had precisely that much longer until the hell hounds came to drag them to hell. They hadn't even worked on a cover story. They didn't think it was worth wasting time on passing themselves as FBI agents or something since they were living on borrowed time, anyway. They just hoped a good old 'things that go bump in the night' explanation and the 'let us save your life' speech would be more than enough to settle things right.

The four of them looked at each other. Cas had agreed to stay behind in the bunker and research whatever there still was to research. Eventually, Emma raised her fist and knocked twice. A second later, a little boy opened the door reluctantly, looking up terrified to meet four strange faces.

"H-Hello?" he greeted the hunters, making it sound as almost a question. The Winchester boys looked at each other troubled, thinking about how men four times his size would do nothing more than terrify the poor kid even more, so they stepped backwards. Melody simply scowled. She made it no secret that she did not tolerate children. Emma glared at all three cowards, then sighed and crouched to bring herself to a level with the kid.

"Hello," she spoke sweetly. "You must be Tommy Smith, right?"

"T-Tom," he corrected, but looking at Emma, his shoulders relaxed a bit; she did have that effect on people. "It's just Tom. Tommy's for little kids. I'm ten now." Emma heard Sam snicker a little, relating to the kid. Men will be kids even as adults.

"Alright, Tom," she said. "Listen, we're here on very important business. Are your parents at home?" The boy nodded. "Can you go get them? Tell us we're here and that we need to talk to them about that business they went into ten years ago."

Tom Smith nodded again and hurried inside and left the four hunters on the front porch, waiting.

"You think it was a good idea?" Mel inquired. "Sending the message through the kid?"

Emma sighed. "Hope so. It'll hopefully get them down here to talk to us."

Before anyone got a chance to say anything else, the door opened and the Smiths stood behind it, both of them pointing rifles at the hunters, little Tom hiding behind the stairs.

"Looks like you were half right, short stuff," Dean mumbled. "It got them down here. But they're not here to talk."

"Shut your mouths," Elizabeth Smith snapped, but Dean could see her finger shaking over the trigger. "We know what you're here for."

Melody rolled her eyes and before Emma and Sam could intervene, she and Dean shared a glance and disarmed the Smiths in one swift move. The two of them stumbled backward as Dean and Mel disarmed the rifles, hurrying Emma and Sam behind and closing the door behind them.

"Do you now?" Melody sighed at the same time as Emma smacked the back of Dean's head.

"Was that really necessary?" she barked at him, and Sam was the one who stepped forward through the whole mess.

"Look, Mr. and Mrs. Smith," he said, and Mel snorted, earning a glare from her sister and boyfriend, but a fist bump from Dean. "We're not the bad guys. But it's clear you know how in over your head you are with this. So I see you're expecting someone to come claim the debt you owe from ten years ago." The Smiths froze into place, their bodies shaking uncontrollably. "Bad news is, the ones who are coming are far worse and scarier than us. Good news is, we're here to help you."

Elizabeth and John Smith exchanged a look. The hunters saw the desperation in their eyes, but looked away, feeling like they'd barged in on something private. Moments later, they both crossed their arms over their chests and sighed.

"Come on in, then," Mrs. Smith spoke up. "We could use some help."

"I was diagnosed with a severe case of eclampsia when I was 27 weeks pregnant. I had seizures, pretty bad seizures. My vital organs were failing. The doctors said I wouldn't make it and that they had to deliver the baby if he wanted to have a shot at surviving. Because mine was gone. My whole body was slowly shutting down."

"I was desperate," the husband spoke. "I was losing my wife and I didn't know whether my baby boy was gonna make it. But then I heard rumors. Whispers. To this day, I don't know who put the idea in my head. But I went to a crossroads and… I summoned it. I summoned the thing. A red-eyed man who promised me my wife would live. But then I got to the hospital and—"

He shuddered and took in a shaky breath. His wife gripped his hand and continued from where he left off.

"I was stable. Conscious and perfectly healthy. But they had already delivered the baby and the doctors weren't very optimistic about his odds at surviving. They said it was too early. A 27-week baby wasn't developed enough to make it. And God, he was so small. So after Rich… John. After John told me about the deal, I went and made one myself. I only wanted one thing. My baby alive. So here we are. Tom's ten and he's a gorgeous, smart, nice little boy. And now he's gonna be left alone because his parents are being dragged to hell."

She broke into tears and his husband put his arms around her. Quiet fell, until Dean shook his head and broke it.

"So what you're saying is, you both made deals." The Smiths nodded. "Ain't that peachy."

Sam pursed his lips. "That changes things a bit, but we've got it. When exactly did you make the deals?"

"Tomorrow's gonna be ten years since then," John Smith replied, and the four hunters drew in sharp breaths.

"Tomorrow," Dean repeated. "We don't have much time. The hell hounds will be here at midnight, no minute later. That leaves us a few hours. We've got goofer dust and devil's shoestring to prevent them from coming inside the house, but that won't hold them long."

"Bottom line is," Melody chipped in, "the minute you hear them howl, you barricade yourselves upstairs and let us do the hard job."

The Smiths nodded reluctantly and the hunters saw them fidget.

"Listen," Elizabeth Smith said eventually. "If this goes wrong, Tommy has no one else. Would it be a lot to ask to get him somewhere safe?"

Melody rolled her eyes. "We ain't no social services, ma'am." Emma pinched her sister, glaring. "Ow. You tiny beast. Okay, fine, Mrs. Smith. We'll get Tommy somewhere safe."

"Don't worry," Sam intervened, offering a small warm smile to compensate for Mel's brutality. "We won't let anything happen to you. And worst case scenario, our good friend Sheriff Jody Mills has specialized in taking care of lonely kids. Your son would be in good hands with her."

The spouses nodded and held on to each other's hands. They were scared out of their minds and dark circles rested under their eyes. It was clear the prospect of imminent death had stolen quite some sleep from them.

"Well then," Dean's voice boomed. "We've got work to do."

They sealed doorways and windows with goofer dust and devil's shoestring. They sealed the room where the Smiths hid. They gave them rifles with rock salt and armed them with iron to defend themselves if the hell hounds managed to get to them. Not that that would happen, they assured them. The hunters knew what they were doing.

The hours flew by quickly and, before they knew it, the clock showed 11:50.

"Alright, fellas," Dean told the Smiths. "Go upstairs. I ain't gonna lie to you, it's gonna be scary. You'll hear them howl and growl for you. The herbs, the salt, the iron, that'll slow them down, but it won't get them off your asses, so don't get any brave ideas. Stay behind the lines and let us do our jobs and you should be safe."

They nodded and went upstairs.

At 11:55, the four hunters put on their holy fire glasses.

"Emma, you good?" Dean asked her.

"Let's fucking hope so," she said, and the three of them let out low laughs at hearing sweet little Emma cuss.

11:58. The tension and the anticipation was in the air. Melody and the brothers gripped tight their rock salt guns. Emma gripped tight the Colt. Their blood boiled with adrenaline.

At 11:59, they heard them howl. Loud and beastly, like nothing Emma had heard before. There was blood thirst in the calling.

"Get ready," Dean ordered. "Any minute now."

At 12:00, the doors burst wide open and three hell hounds ran in.

"Holy shit," Melody whispered under her breath, and Emma shared the sentiment. They were horrifying. Like dogs, but rotten dogs, smelling like burned flesh and growling with the anticipation of the humans they'd get to taste and drag down to hell.

"It's three of them," Emma whispered. "That's too many."

"Now, guys!" Dean roared, not giving them time to wallow in the realization that this might end up with casualties. They hadn't really counted on more than one hell hound.

The brothers and Melody shot rock salt at them, watching them stumble backwards, but it did nothing more than provoke and annoy them. One of them lunged at Dean, who clearly had enough experience to deal with them and he was ready before the beast could bite a chunk out of his shoulder. Emma watched them wrestle on the ground, Dean trying hard to get away from it, but she couldn't get a clean shot to hit it with the Colt.

"Emma, watch out!" she heard Melody shout at her and, before she could react, she saw the hell hound reaching for her.

Instinct took over and, before the hell hound could get to her, she raised the Colt and fired. The bullet hit it right before its eyes and the beast fell to the ground with a loud painful roar. It took a second to register, but eventually, she released a shaky breath. One hell hound down.

"Em, a little help here!" Dean screamed. Right. Emma turned around to see Melody and Sam shooting rock salt at the hell hound that was over Dean, while he fought hard to keep it from biting into his head. Emma took in a deep breath, aimed and fired. The bullet hit the beast and it fell lifelessly over Dean. He groaned and pushed it away, standing up and panting.

"Thanks," he groaned, and Emma smiled.

"That's two," she said, but then she saw realization hit all four of them at once. Two.

"The third one," Sam whispered with panic, at the same time as a cry of terror was heard from upstairs.

A child cry.

They all hurried upstairs, horrified. The sight they found there made their breaths hitch in their throats.

The door to the Smiths' bedroom opened and Elizabeth and John Smith walked out. The third hell hound was nowhere in sight. Elizabeth fell to her knees and let out a heart wrenching cry in agony. Right at their feet lay little Tommy, his flesh shredded, in a pool of blood, his eyes wide open and unfocused, his chest no longer moving.

"No!" Mrs. Smith pulled him in her lap, to her chest, crying in his hair. "No! Not like that! It wasn't supposed to be him. Not him. It was supposed to be us!"

The hunters had no answer. No words of consolation as the two spouses mourned they child. They could offer no explanation. It wasn't fair. Tom must have heard the hound and gotten out of his room, curious to see what was happening, because they were sure they'd barricaded his bedroom. So when the hound couldn't get to his parents' bedroom, it grabbed him. It truly wasn't fair that an innocent child, free of any guilt, had to burn in hell for his parents' sins.

Emma gritted his teeth. "Dean?" He turned to her inquiringly. "Get the hounds. I need to take that bath. Then I'm going to hell to bring Tommy back."


	21. Stairway to hell

**CHAPTER 20 – STAIRWAY TO HELL**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Jeff Beck – Live in the dark~**

Bathing in blood had been, hands down, the grossest thing Emma had ever done. She had needed about a dozen showers afterwards, and she still hadn't been able to wash off the rotten smell of the blood of those hell hounds. But there was no time for lingering over how dirty her skin still felt, even though she was still sore in some places from how hard she'd rubbed them off.

No, there was not much time for anything else. Tommy Smith was down in hell, and she couldn't even begin to fathom the idea of a ten-year old undergoing the torture this Crowley had in stock. Her second trial consisted of freeing an innocent soul from hell. Emma couldn't think of a soul more innocent than that sweet little innocent boy who'd opened the door for them only yesterday.

"Hey," Dean's voice from the driver's seat brought Emma from her reverie. "You good there, short stuff? Feeling funny yet?"

Emma sighed. They were on their way to that portal that led to hell and went through purgatory, since they couldn't afford sparing too much time on technicalities. Seeing as she had to put up with three overprotective jackasses, she had had to agree to Melody coming along, since she and Dean were fairly accustomed to the sights. There had been an argument about who got to come along, which her sister and her boyfriend settled like adults. Playing rock, paper, scissors. The Bennett sisters in action, just like old times, Mel had said. But throughout the rush and the adrenaline from the hell hound thing and rushing straight into the second trial, Emma hadn't even paused to think whether she felt any differently.

"A bit, I guessed," she answered after a few seconds of silence. "I can't really explain it, but it's like the little angel grace that has been dormant so far is getting a bit tingly. I'm good, save for feeling like I just chugged down a few vodka shots."

"That's good," Sam hurried to reassure her. "It means the grace is working to heal you already. The trials are supposed to alter the structure of the souls, and I remember I felt it pretty rough throughout them. If you're hanging tight, then we were more right about your odds than we thought."

Melody rolled her eyes playfully. "Now say that again, but try to make it sound less morbid."

Emma mustered a chuckle. Well, Sam did try, but there was no making this less morbid. And as reassuring that angel grace hum felt within her, she couldn't shake off this feeling that they were going on a limb here. There was no way to tell what her odds truly were, there was only hoping for the best, and even though none of them wanted to acknowledge it out loud, it was clear by the tension in all of their shoulders that each one of them knew it.

In no time, they all stood in front of the door that led to purgatory, where Jace waited for them, since they needed someone to carry them there in the absence of a reaper. He'd been reluctant to offer his help, but eventually, Jace had agreed to help. And, surprisingly enough, the hostile look exchange between him and Sam that usually suggested they wanted to rip each other to pieces never happened. Melody nearly choked from shock.

"You just can't resist getting into trouble, can ya, angel boy?" Melody teased him, and he offered back a crooked smile.

"Maybe I just can't stay away from you," he replied, and she playfully glared at him, chuckling. She was even more shocked when Sam didn't huff and puff and growl at Jace for the flirty remark.

"It's great seeing you again, Jace," Emma cut in. "Every help we can get is appreciated."

Jace clicked his tongue. "Well, if I couldn't talk you out of it, might as well lend a hand and help you not die."

"So generous," Dean mumbled under his breath and Emma elbowed him in the ribs.

"Shall we, ladies?" Jace clapped his hands once, and Emma and Mel held their breaths. Emma from anxiety. She didn't know what awaited her behind this door and how she would face up hell. Melody from excitement and anticipation. Oh, how she loved the rush and the raw energy that killing in purgatory provided.

Sam and Dean stayed behind. Jace took their hands and the door opened. A minute later, they stood in purgatory.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Blues Saraceno – The River~**

Emma hated it down here. It was too quiet and she could hear the frantic beatings of her heart ringing loud in her ears. The sound of ragged breathing felt like a beacon in the depth of these woods. She felt exposed and she felt vulnerable to threats, the grace humming inside her in anticipation. She felt them lurking and she felt their presence hanging heavily in the air around her. She let out a shaky breath and Melody turned to her with a wicked grin plastered on her face.

"Nice, huh?" her sister clicked her tongue, and Emma's eyebrows rose.

"It's giving me the creeps," she admitted, but Melody's smile only widened.

"I know, right? It's awesome." She noticed Emma's shocked stare and chuckled. "It's okay, Ems. You're too nice for this place. Too pure. These woods are insatiable for anger and despair. I've got plenty of that."

Of course. Emma remembered talking to Dean about that. For tormented souls such as Mel and Dean, this purgatory must have provided the perfect punch bag. Melody found release in killing. Emma didn't understand, but she supposed she could accept that as a therapeutic method of coping. Who was she to judge how the people she loved moved on from what haunted them? In what concerned her, this place still gave her the creeps.

"Let's get going," she prompted, and the three of them started moving.

They moved slowly and Emma felt the small hairs at the nape of her neck rising. Leaves and branches ruffled beneath their boots and every breath they took in felt too loud. Surprisingly enough, though they moved cautiously and didn't dare take a single step out of place, no threat rose in their paths.

"How much further?" Emma inquired eventually.

"Almost there," Jace replied. "Just a little longer. I hope you have a plan, though. I still feel like it's painfully stupid, what you've got planned."

Melody snorted. "Save it, angel boy. Literally nobody cares."

"Cute," Jace mumbled under his breath.

"What my sister probably means," Emma intervened, shooting Mel a glare before she could object about how she was perfectly able to mean what she wanted to mean, "is that you've made your point once before. And we've made a call whose consequences we'll deal with. Like this kid who's stuck in hell because of his parents' stupid calls. He deserves better and I'll deliver him to it."

Jace nodded once. He did see her point. Strongly disagreed with it, but he could see it. He hadn't had the chance to spend time and connect with the elder Bennett sister, but he could now distinguish how different Emma and Melody were. They both had plenty of heart. The difference was that Melody had double the heart and the guts, and Emma had double the brains. So he couldn't help but ask again.

"What about the plan?"

Emma fell uncharacteristically quiet. She drew in a shaky breath. "You and Mel stay behind and wait for me. I'll figure something out on the spot."

Melody turned to her sister, eyes wide. "Emma, you can't figure _something out_ on the spot. This is hell. You've gotta be prepared or else you die. You get me?"

"Yes, yes, I got you," Emma sighed loudly. "I'll be fine."

"You'd better be," Melody grabbed her elbow and whispered through gritted teeth. "Jace and I will be waiting for you here and make sure the area's clear. But Emma, if you're not back in 20, I'm coming down for you."

Emma opened her mouth to argue, but she knew there was no point in it by the way Melody clenched her jaw. Her mind was made up. So Emma simply nodded as they stood in front of the rocks under which the door to hell waited for her. She bid Jace and her sister goodbye and went through. Before they were out of ear shot, she heard them argue.

"You know there's no way I'm letting you go down there again, right?" Jace said, and Mel huffed.

"Like you could stop me. I'd love to see you try to stay in my way when it comes to saving my sister, angel boy."

Emma almost smiled. She just hoped there's be no need for that.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Adam Road – If God don't follow me~**

The first thing that hit Emma was the smell. Like rotten eggs, which was the sulfur from the demons, but that suddenly became the most bearable one. Rotten flesh. Burned flesh. The rusty smell of blood. Like decay.

She braced herself. The second thing that hit her was the screams. From everywhere around her, tortured souls begged for help, for release, for oblivion. She shuddered when she thought about how Melody and Dean had been like that. How those screams could've been theirs. How the smell of burned, torn apart flesh could've been theirs. She couldn't even fathom the idea that her sister and the man she loved had once sat on those racks.

She put it all away from her head and stepped forward, gripping tight the angel blade in her hand. Her whole body was shaking, but she had no doubt that, should circumstances require it, she'd be able to pull herself together and cut some demon throats. She was more than ready. She had amends to make. She had loved ones to avenge and a child to rescue.

She kept walking down the long tunnel until there were cages to her left and to her right. And in those cages, broken humans. They all sat in their corners, like scared rats, their bodies in tension and not daring to move a single muscle. It was horrifying and dehumanizing. Emma understood now, what Dean had told her about what hell had done to his soul. She understood now why he'd been so scared about forgetting his humanity. She understood now why he said that every demon had once been a human that hell had broken. If her task hadn't been fully focused on little Tommy, Emma couldn't have picked. She didn't care what some of these people had done to land in hell, as far as she was concerned, most of them were innocent souls. Who would deserve spending eternity like this?

She didn't know for how long she walked down that tunnel surrounded by cries until she found the cage she was looking for. She glimpsed at her left and stopped dead in her tracks, drawing in a shaky breath. Right there, in a cage, sat little Tommy, curled up in a corner, rocking back and forth and sobbing. His clothes were torn and there were fresh scars on his whole body. Jesus Christ. It had been less than two days since he'd been dragged down here. But in hell terms, it must have been so much more. He'd lived through way too many horrors.

Emma gripped the bars tight, until her knuckles turned white.

"Tommy? Tom? It's Emma. Do you remember me, sweetie? I was there with your parents the day… the day they took you. I'm here to save you."

Tommy didn't look up. His arms braced his knees even tighter than before and his muscles tensed.

"Go away," he said in a broken voice, and it occurred to Emma that maybe the tortures had been of this sort, too. She wondered, horrified, how many times had Tommy's parents had supposedly come for him, bathing him in false hopes, just to bring him to another round of torture with his family as tormentors.

"It's really me, Tommy," she told him softly. "Trust me. I'm here for you."

The little boy looked up, his eyes clouded and tormented. Emma's heart clenched to see him like this.

"I don't know if I should believe you," the poor kid admitted. "I don't wanna go back there. Please don't make me go back there. I'm scared. I want my mommy."

Emma bit her lip to hold in a few tears and pulled on her best encouraging face. "You're not going back there, Tommy. I'm gonna bring you to your mommy." Not entirely true, but she didn't have the time to explain the technicalities of Heaven to him. "But you need to trust me and we need to hurry, okay?"

Tommy simply blinked, seeming a bit reluctant to bear hope. "For real?"

Emma smiled. "For real?"

And before Tommy could say anything else, she pulled out her lock picker and started working on the locks of the cage. It was fairly easy, seeing as she doubted anyone was concerned about people escaping. Where would they even go? She walked inside the cage and reached for Tommy, watching him flinch away from her touch instinctively.

"It's alright, Tommy," she soothed him. "Let's get you out of here."

She caught his hand and pulled him forward, feeling his trust slowly build up. She couldn't waste any more time trying to reassure him. Her luck was bound to run out eventually and she couldn't tell for how long she'd been down here. She was sure she'd gone right past Melody's 20 minutes and she couldn't have her sister coming here again. So she kept dragging Tommy forward and she was more than grateful that he put whatever little strength he had to use and kept running.

She was almost there, by her estimations. The portal was close and the road had been pretty smooth. She allowed herself to hope she would finish the race without any trouble, that she'd finish this trial without any bumps in the road. But as soon as the glimmer of hope was bred in her soul, she knew it wouldn't be long-lived.

There'd been no warning. No sound to tip her off. No shadows. Before she could realize what was going on, a demon stepped into her path, eyes onyx black. She froze for an instant, remembering demon Dean, but she willed herself to snap out of it. Dean was healed and the demon wasn't coming back. And now Tommy's life was worth too much to afford freezing.

"Going somewhere?" the demon inquired, and Emma gripped Tom's hand tight. The poor kid looked on the verge of a breakdown. Understandable. She could tell he'd allowed himself to hope they'd get out, too, and they'd come so far only to be caught in the last moment. She could tell he thought hell had gained two prisoners instead of losing one. But Emma wouldn't let this happen.

"Home," she hissed at him. "Now get out of my way."

The demon snarled and barked a laugh at her. "Don't think so, no. There's a rack back there with your name on it."

"I don't got time for this," Emma mumbled under her breath and pulled out her angel blade. No way was she staying down here. No way was she abandoning Tommy. She'd drop any demon who stood in her way.

She was about to lounge at the demon and attack when she heard a loud bang and his whole body convulsed before he fell to the ground. Emma looked at him in confusion before raising her gaze and meeting Melody's only a few feet in front of her. Mel had her hand extended, holding a smoking gun and wearing a wicked grin plastered on her lips.

"Took your time, I see," Melody lowered the gun.

"Melody," Emma breathed, looking from Mel to the demon and to Mel again. "What are you… You shouldn't have come down here."

Melody snorted, tucking her gun away. "Please. I'm a guest of honor down here, sis."

Emma ignored the implications of that statement and the way it turned her stomach upside down, seeing as her sister didn't seem too fazed by it. Her eyes kept darting back to the demon who was still convulsing on the floor. He wasn't dead, so these weren't lethal bullets, but normal bullets didn't affect demons, either, so it must have been something in between. Melody followed her gaze and shot her sister a half grin.

"A little trick Dean taught me," she explained. "Devil's traps carved into bullets. With the trap literally inside them, makes them unable to move."

"But why?" Emma shook her head. "Why not kill him? We don't really afford showing them mercy."

"Mercy?" Mel huffed. "Hell, no. I'm just thinking ahead. You need to cure a demon for the third trial. This poor bastard should do."

"Impressive," Emma mumbled, and Mel's eyes finally fell on little Tom.

"Hey there, fella," she saluted. "Ready to get outta here?"

Tommy gulped and looked up to Emma. "Are you taking me to my mommy and daddy?"

Emma crouched in front of him quickly, knowing they were on a clock to truly break the little boy out of here. "No, Tommy. Your mommy and daddy wanted me to tell that they love you and that they're sorry. But we're not taking you to them. We're taking you somewhere so much better."

"W-Where?" his lower lip started to quiver.

"Somewhere you'll be able to spend forever with your parents, happily ever after. We're taking you to Heaven."


	22. Black moon rising

**CHAPTER 21 – BLACK MOON RISING**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Imagine Dragons – Who we are~**

Emma sat in the library, staring blankly ahead. She heard people talking around her, but she just didn't have it in her to pay attention or to be engaged in their discussion. She was exhausted. Like when you come home and throw yourself in the bed after two long days without having gotten any sleep, and all you want is to never get up again, to just sleep yourself to oblivion.

And then there was Tommy Smith. She'd gotten to purgatory safe and sound – as safe as can be given they were still in purgatory – and she'd had to look him in the eye as she explained to him he was still dead, and he would remain dead. He told her to tell his parents that he loved them and Emma had delivered his soul to Heaven, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he'd somehow let him down. None of that was supposed to happen. The Smiths should have been one happy, complete family, living a long life together. Though she'd made sure to grant little Tommy a quiet eternity, free of whatever torment or misery, that didn't change the fact that the kid was dead. At peace, but still dead. And his parents had to live on without their only son.

And now, with the second trial completed, all that was left to be dealt with was that demon in the basement.

"Hey, short stuff," Dean snapped his fingers in front of her eyes, making her flinch. "You with us?"

She shook her head lightly and gave a small smile. "Oh. Yeah, yeah I am. I just blanked for a second. You were saying?"

But looking at the four faces around them, she could tell none of them were fooled.

"How do you feel, Emma?" Cas was the first to ask. "Are there any repercussions we should know of?"

She simply shrugged. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Emma—" Sam started to scold her, but she raised her hands defensively.

"Seriously, guys, don't worry about me. I'm as fine as can be, given the circumstances. I feel tired and a bit feverish. Like I'm catching a cold. I'll pull through. So what's the plan for the third trial?"

Melody, the brothers, and Cas watched her for a minute, clearly not too convinced, then finally sighed and let her be.

"We're on demon curing duty," Sam stated. "It needs to happen on holy ground, so I'll take you to a church and do our part. I'll be with you every step of the way in case something goes wrong. But our side should be fairly easy."

Emma frowned. "Okay, I guess? Then what's the hard part? What are you guys doing?"

She turned to Dean and Mel and Dean started rubbing the back of his head before replying. "We're drawing Amara out."

Emma blinked a few times, then finally let out a loud sigh and slouched her shoulders. Was there even a point in arguing about this?

"Of course," she spoke tired. "You're bait again. I'm not even gonna try to talk you out of it."

"It'd be pointless anyway," Melody picked at her nails carelessly. "Ugly job, but someone's gotta do it. And we're your guys for ugly jobs. And you need Sam for this. The teams are balanced."

"Alright," Emma ran her hands over her faced. She was starting to feel soreness gathering in her muscles and the clouds of a migraine knocking at her temples. Perhaps there was more of a repercussion to these trials than she'd given it credit for. "So how are you gonna deliver Amara to the gates of hell right before I lock them up and throw away the key?"

Cas stepped in to answer. "I have found a spell similar to the one that Cain used to transfer the Mark to Dean, in wide lines. I believe I can replicate it onto a dagger or an angel blade so that, once she's is stabbed with it, the dagger will trap the Darkness and we can carry on with our plan."

Emma pondered for a moment. It sounded like a valid plan. A bit too clean, maybe, but valid. Stab, trap, throw dagger into hell and forget about that sort of world that lay down under. She rubbed the back of her neck. Then why did she feel so tense thinking about it?

"Got any objections, short stuff?" Dean questioned, noticing her uneasiness.

"I don't know," she sighed frustrated. "It seems a bit too easy, guys. Everything went more or less smoothly so far. I completed the first two trials without as much as the blink of an eye. And this plan seems really well thought. But you know what they say. When something can go wrong…"

She trailed off, but they all knew what she meant. When something can go wrong, it will. And she was terrified of that. The plan was flawless, but there were so many variables to be taken into consideration. This wasn't going to be an easy fight, and the realization settled over the five of them like a storm cloud.

Melody finally broke the silence by huffing and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Come on, you pathetic little sorry-asses," her voice boomed across the library and Emma raised an eyebrow at her sister's outburst. "We're the freaking Winchesters. We don't whine and we don't wallow in self-pity. Now let's go kick this chick's ass. I've never liked read-heads anyways."

That brought a smile on everyone's face, but at a closer look, Emma noticed Sam actually beaming at his girlfriend and she remembered the way Melody had put it.

 _We're the freaking Winchesters._

Because somewhere along the way, they had all merged into one unity. And they would fight as one or go down trying.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Jaymes Young – I'll be good~**

Sam led Emma into the same church from all those years ago. The memory still burned bright in the back of his head and he doubted he would ever be able to live it down. Some scars run just too deep, unable to ever heal completely. He dropped the demon into an old, nearly-broken chair above a devil's trap and tied him down. Everything was so similar, as if he were merely walking into his old footprints. Emma must have noticed something was off about him, because she cleared her throat subtly and, when he turned around, he saw her standing a few feet away, her arms crossed over her chest, trying hard not to watch him too warily.

"This must feel a bit odd for you," she commented, hitting bull's eye with the statement. "Being back here. Back into this situation."

Sam gulped before replying. "I won't bother lying to you. You'll see right through it. Let's just say I understand now why they say that those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

Emma paced back and forth slowly, taking in the church as Sam's words registered. It had a certain aura to it. She thought about Sam speaking of history. This church certainly had some history to it. It was marked in its every wall and it screamed at her every time the wind howled through its echoes. She looked back at Sam. To think through how much he'd been… Sam never game himself enough credit. She'd related to that long ago, but she saw it clearly now. Sam didn't think so, but he was a good man, despite the wrong choices he'd made. And she also knew now that these trials had been his stepping stone as they were hers at the moment. You don't know how dirty your hands are until you're forced to wipe them clean. And you find the blood and the dirt thicker than you'd expected.

"You think history's repeating itself?" she inquired. "That you didn't learn anything from it?"

He offered a humorless laugh. "Well, it is repeating itself. So that's to say I didn't."

"Or you did. You're not staring in this episode, Winchester. Maybe it's just my turn to learn a lesson that you've already mastered."

Emma saw Sam ponder for a moment, then his eyes literally lit up at a possibility he'd failed to consider. That he was finally clean after all. That he was only a pawn in helping Emma learn her side of the history.

"Alright, enough bonding, big guy," Emma clapped her hands together. "Let's get this over with and just hope Dean and Mel can stay on the clock. Amara needs to be gone tonight."

On this, they could both agree on. Emma was familiar with the drill. They'd been over it quite a few times tonight before getting started. So with her heart in her hand, she went to confess and cleanse her soul before proceeding with the ritual. And as she sat there, trying to count her sins, she let herself consider for just one second that this last trial might actually take its toll on her and kill her. That it would be too much. That this would be her last chance to leave this world with her soul a little cleaner if this were to be her last fighting battle. So she opened herself up and sought deeply. She pulled out every sin that she thought violated the little she remembered of the Ten Commandments. Then she tried to figure out what even counted as a sin. So looking in hindsight, she pulled out those thoughts and actions that brought harm upon herself and upon those she loved. Every bad call. Every person she couldn't save. Even the times when that person had been herself and she'd lost bits of it along the way. Because this is what sin was, right? The people you have wronged. Starting with yourself and finishing with whatever God she no longer believed was out there.

And she must've counted her sins well. Because as she walked out there, her steps felt a little lighter.

"All done?" Sam asked, and she nodded reluctantly. She couldn't begin to describe what was starting to build up within her, but she felt that grace residue expand and fill every empty corner of her soul, every little spot that had been cleansed of dirt now hummed with light. It was exhilarating, if not a bit overwhelming.

"Yeah," she replied. "Let's do this."

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Naughty Boy ft. Bastille – No one's here to sleep**

The demon hissed in his chair, but with the bullet digging into his meat suit, he was helpless. Emma sat across from him as Sam picked up a syringe and drew the first vial of blood. He placed it in her hand, but none of them spoke. She knew what she had to do. She walked up to the demon and, in one swift movement, she stuck the needle in his neck and emptied her blood in his system. He let out a piercing scream, but Emma was vaguely aware of anything else other than the pulse of the angel grace throbbing in her veins.

"Filthy human bitch," the demon raged. "You think you and your Winchesters puppies can get rid of us so easily? You just wait, you whore. I've seen this movie before. Hell's fury will rain down on you."

Emma turned her back on him. "Let it come."

She waited an hour. Emptied another shot of blood into the demon's system. Another hour. Another syringe. For the first four hours, she kept being spat at and cursed at and threatened. For the first four hours, her head got lighter and her consciousness slipped further away. It was like that feeling right before falling asleep, when you feel yourself drifting off and you sink in deeper and cozier into your pillow as you slip away. And she was slipping away.

As she emptied the fourth vial, she wasn't met with curses and threats anymore. Instead, the demon's eyes looked forward unfocused, unflinching. Like he could no longer be bothered by it. Emma flinched as the grace burned brighter, lighting up her insides, but she tried to hide it from her face as Sam stood next to her.

"What's his deal?" she asked him under her breath.

Sam took a long breath before replying and he shot her an encouraging smile. "It's working." He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "How are you holding up?"

Emma refused to answer. She didn't have it in her to lie to him. She was supposed to be purified and clean. She couldn't lie to his face if she wanted this to work. She would not risk anything of it. But she also couldn't tell him how this last trial was ripping parts of herself that the last two trials hadn't yet. The great finale. But whatever was to come, whatever the price was, she was willing to pay it. So she denied him any answer whatsoever.

"Emma," he caught her shoulders and made her face him. "Don't lie to me. It's bad, isn't it?" She didn't reply, but he must have seen it in her eyes before speaking again. "We don't have to go through with this. You need some time to gather your strength and –"

"No," she cut him off, surprising even herself with how fierce she'd sounded. "We're doing this. We must end it now. And we can't skip the hours or it won't work."

"Emma, listen to me. I've been where you are. I was willing to risk everyth—"

"Then you understand," she raised her voice. "You understand why I have to finish this. Sam, you're the one person I would've always chosen to do this with. Dean and Mel are biased. I'm this big picture in their eyes and they'd save me, _always_ me, consequences be damned."

"And you're saying I wouldn't?" Sam hissed back, looking hurt at her assumption. "Emma, I care whether you live or die. I'm biased, too. You're my best friend. You're a freaking Winchester. And we leave no soul behind."

She unclasped herself from his grip and stepped backwards. "I know you care, Sam. You're my best friend, too, but this once, things might not go our way. You and Dean, Mel and I, all of us, we've seen this show before. We doom the world at the price of our salvation. This time we should make the right choice. Please, understand. I know you can. You know sacrifice and you know it's worth it. Let's get it over with, the two of us, since we're that half of the freaking Winchesters who understand that sometimes the greater good is truly greater than us."

She didn't wait around for his reaction to her speech. She turned her back and walked away, but she knew she'd hit the right spots. Sam wouldn't stand in her way, even if it killed her. He wouldn't try to stop her, because if the roles had been reversed, he would've gladly given his life to preserve the bigger picture. He'd had that chance once, and the one person he loved the most had been there to stop him. Dean and Mel weren't here to do that for Emma.

By the sixth shot, the demon was dead silent, but his eyes held something Emma would've never believed possible. Humanity. He started to ramble right before the seventh shot, about the identity crisis he was having. He talked about the people he'd tortured and how much he'd enjoyed inflicting pain. He talked about guilt. He talked about a numbness to his very core and about the tingling he started to feel in his fingertips. Emma emptied the seventh vial in his system and collapsed to her knees. Her skin was glowing. Her veins were filled with holy grace that was eating at her blood.

Sam hurried to her side and fell to his knees, trying to help her up. She wanted to cough, but even her lungs were filled with grace. Her eyeballs burned and she felt like her head was going to explode.

"Emma, you need to let the grace heal you," he urged. "You won't survive this."

She raised her gaze and looked him straight in the eyes as she said, "I know."

Under Sam's teary and shocked eyes, she struggled to stand up. On shaky feet, she sat across from the blabbering demon about to be turned into human. One last vial. She picked up the syringe and handed it to Sam. He eyed it reluctantly. This was the last hour. As soon as she emptied that syringe into the demon, he would be cured, hell would be locked up and Emma would most likely be dead. She would combust before his eyes. He wasn't sure he could do this.

"Emma—"

"Don't, Sammy," she spoke with a breathy voice. "We gotta."

"Dean and Melody—"

"They'll survive this," she reassured him, but maybe herself more than him. "It's gonna take a while, but they'll understand. They gotta. Let's roll, Sammy. Let's pull the trigger on this Russian motherfucker."

And he didn't want to, but he saw that they had to. It's why Emma had known all along she could count on him. To understand. To not talk her out of it. To not chicken out. After all, they'd known all along her life was a potential price to pay for this victory. In the end, maybe it had been more of a certainty than they'd cared to admit.

Sam moved and took the syringe from his hand. He was about to draw the last vial of blood when his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and showed the caller ID to Emma.

"Dean," he announced. "Probably to check in with the Amara situation."

He picked up and brought the phone to his ear and, before he could speak, Dean's voice boomed through the speaker.

"How are you guys with the demon curing?"

Sam considered telling him about Emma nearly dying in the process, but he shot her a look and Emma slowly shook her head and he reconsidered. He cleared his throat before replying.

"Almost set. We're down to the last vial of blood."

"Yeah, you might wanna hold that thought, Sammy. We got a problem."


	23. When something can go wrong

**CHAPTER 22 – WHEN SOMETHING CAN GO WRONG**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Zayde Wolf – New blood~**

Dean and Melody pulled over in front of an empty warehouse. It was a bit cliché in terms of final battle grounds, but it was strategically decent. They needed a place to lure Amara out and to stab her with the dagger Cas had enchanted. Clean job. In and out. They just needed to be smarter than her.

Charming the blade had been quite a headache for Cas, but he'd pulled through. Dean couldn't really understand the mojo he'd had Jace working on, considering Cas didn't have his feathery powers on him, but as far as he'd been able to understand, he'd found a way to carve a replica of the Mark of Cain into the handle of the dagger. Once they stabbed Amara with it, the Darkness would yet again be trapped under the Mark. Then all it would take was a quick road trip to hell to drop the blade into the fieriest, deepest pit before Emma could complete the trial. It wasn't gonna be easy, but if they stayed on the clock and if they followed the plan, this was bound to be a clean job. Dean was confident in his odds. To be perfectly safe, he'd even passed the dagger to Melody to make sure he wouldn't fall prey to Amara's influence again. Though there was little chance for that. Ever since the woman he loved had almost been killed by her, Amara no longer awoke such feelings in him other than a deep hatred and the only desire that still pulled him to her was the desire to see her head on a spike.

"Ready, Rapunzel?" he looked sideways at his best friend, who shot him a wicked smirk.

"Oh, yeah," Melody replied casually. "I've been ready for a while now. I was just waiting for you to say a prayer, make a wish, say your monologue and pull yourself together. Now that you're done with all that, shall we, princess?"

Dean rolled his eyes dramatically and went ahead, followed closely by Mel's teasing chuckle.

But as soon as they stepped through those doors, there was no trace of joke in their features. The warehouse was empty just like they needed it, and they couldn't put this off much longer. Melody pulled out the dagger with the Mark on it and she weighed it in her hand. Cas had assured them there was no reason why it wouldn't work, but she had her doubts. This wasn't, after all, the Mark of Cain, the biblical, ancient Mark of Cain. She couldn't bring herself to forget this was just a cheap replica. She wanted to, but she just couldn't believe hard enough that this dagger would be powerful enough to contain the mother friggin' Darkness. She guessed it'd have to be. It was too late for second guessing, anyway.

"So how does this work?" she questioned Dean. "You get creative in your head and she answers the call of your kinky dreams?"

Dean glared. "Funny. No. I'm not sure how it works, but if I want her to come, she… She knows. And she comes. Freaking bond or something."

Melody lowered the blade and watched Dean closely. He was tense, but she could read determination in his eyes. She had no doubt of where his loyalties lay.

"And you can go through with this?" she had to ask. "You sure you won't gaze into her eyes and want to flee with her into the dark horizon?"

"No," he replied fiercely, not even cracking a smile at her joke. The rage and hatred in his eyes made Mel take a step backwards. "Not anymore. Bond or no bond, she tried to mess with Emma. That's off limits. The moment she laid a hand on her, I've wanted nothing more than to gank the bitch."

Melody thought about his words for a minute and the decision was already made in her head. Dean had scores to settle and she knew all too well that feeling you get when you're keen on protecting those you love. Perhaps Amara had gotten to him through some shady ways, ancient magic king of thing that she couldn't understand. But she could also see he was over that. He'd broken the bond, through realizing how much he loved Emma.

So Mel handed the blade to him. Dean looked from it back to his best friend and back at it again.

"Well, are you gonna stand there all day?" Melody prompted. "Let's see what you're made of, Winchester. It's your battle and I trust you."

Dean gulped. "I don't really. I don't trust me. What if—"

"Amara tortured Emma for days," Melody cut him off, gritting her teeth. "I don't think you'll forget that. So tell that to yourself as you drive the blade through that bitch."

That did the deed for Dean. He clenched his jaw tight and his fingers fastened around the hilt of the dagger. There was not even the shadow of a doubt in his eyes. Amara was never gonna see it coming. So with the blade safely tucked away, pressed against his lower back, Dean turned away from Melody and took a deep breath.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Jamie N Commons – Not gonna break me~**

"Amara!" he raged. "Amara! Come on, show yourself. Let's end this already!"

He paced back and forth for a few more moments and Melody was starting to worry she wasn't gonna show up. That she knew this was a trap. That Emma was risking her life and would close hell up without Amara in it. But just as panic crept in, dark smoke clouded her vision and a red-headed woman dressed in black and barefoot stood in front of them, a murderous smile plastered on her face.

"Dean," she spoke lightly, her voice raspy and clear. "It's been a while. Are you still hung up on this mindless quarrel?" It occurred to Melody that she was mocking Dean's resistance, which she was probably doing. "Do you still think you have any fight in you that could resist me?"

Melody saw Dean gulp and his shoulders slouch. The 'uh oh' feeling in her gut screamed at her, but she ignored it. Though it had never been wrong before, she trusted Dean with this. She's build a solid argument around why she trusted him with this. It was his battle. But then he spoke.

"No," he said clearly and defeated. "I don't."

If Amara was surprised, she didn't show it. Instead, a feral smile spread across her lips, as if all of her waiting had finally been awarded.

"So you've finally given in," she spoke, contentment obvious in her voice. Dean shivered under her gaze.

"I've tried not to," he admitted, his voice shaking. "I'm trying right now. I thought with you putting Emma in danger, it would be different. It's not. I'm tired. I can't fight it any longer."

His feet were unsteady as he dared to take a step forward and Amara raised her chin, as if welcoming him in. But Melody couldn't just stand idly by and watch this circus.

"What the hell?" she shrieked. "Dean, snap out of it, dude. Son of a—"

"I see you keep bringing loud company along," Amara commented, as if Mel was simply a rat to be stepped on. "Your doppelganger, I presume. How very unpleasant."

"Leave her out of this," Dean begged. "I'm here. And I'm… I'm done."

"Like hell you are," Melody hissed through gritted teeth and lunged for him. She didn't know what she wanted to do. Shake him by the shoulders. Bitch slap him. Gouge his eyes out if he was too stupid to see what a mistake he was making and what a terrible doom he led them to. But Amara was faster. With a flick of her wrist, she sent Melody flying through the air and into the closest wall, knocking the air out of her lungs. She sat up, holding her side and gasping in pain and she saw Dean looking at her with the most hurt and agonizing expression on his face.

"That's enough," he turned to Amara, but his voice was uncertain. "Look, I'll come with you. I'll do whatever you want me to do. But don't hurt her."

Amara looked at Melody with her arm extended, as if pondering what to do with her. Well, whatever it was, Melody was prepared for it. Hell if she wasn't going down swinging. But Amara let her hands drop instead, sparing her life. Mel wanted to curse at her and at Dean, for endangering everything and not being able to resist her.

"Suit yourself," Amara turned to Dean. "They'll all be dead soon, anyway. It won't matter."

She brought up her other hand and held it up for Dean to take it. Melody hissed and gasped, wishing the force of the blow hadn't knocked her out so hard and that she could just yell at him to snap out of it and think it clearly. But it was too late. Shit. Shit. _Shit._ He was really doing this. As in, Dean was _really_ betraying everything under her influence. His hand rose higher and higher until his fingertip met hers. Melody let out a loud, shaky breath that made Dean catch a look in her direction one last time.

Then she stopped breathing.

She saw it in his eyes before he could move. But he turned around so fast, she couldn't even be sure of what she'd read in his eyes. Yet in a flash, his hand went to the waist of his jeans and pulled out the dagger, throwing it at full speed into Amara's chest. But she was faster and, before the dagger could be plunged into her heart, she caught Dean's arm as it was hovering right above her chest. Oh, thank God, Melody released a breath. She should've had more faith in Dean.

"You—You lied," Amara shrieked, looking genuinely shocked. "You betrayed me. You lied to me."

It was disconcerting how truly shaken she was by Dean's betrayal. As if she'd actually expected him to turn his back on everything and everyone he loved when it was in his nature to always keep fighting. Even if the odds weren't always in his favor. Dean hissed at her and pushed the dagger harder, closing in inch by inch towards her chest. Not much longer now.

"Hell yeah," he barked at her. "You thought you could break the only person in this family who was still whole and walk from it? You touched Emma, you're enemy. Simple math."

Amara was strong and she was resisting the dagger, but the spell cast on it was more powerful and it was beating her by the second. She groaned and the tip of the blade touched her skin. Then she did the only thing they didn't expect her to do. She burst out laughing. Hysterically. It fazed Dean for a second and his grip on the blade faltered, but he recovered quickly and the tip of the dagger pierced the flesh and a single drop of blood ran down. Amara kept laughing, her grip growing weaker and weaker. They were gonna pull it off. Melody didn't want to get her hopes up too soon, but they were winning this.

"Fools," was all she said, and then the laughter turned into a terrifying grimace. "You really thought it was gonna be this easy? I was Alpha and I will be Omega. A human weakness won't be the end of me. I cannot be undone."

Dean didn't bat an eyelash. "Oh, yeah? Watch me, bitch. This is me, undoing you. It was _that_ easy."

Amara burst into laughter again, and Melody couldn't tell which one was more terrifying. Threatening Amara, hysterical Amara or vengeful Dean.

"There's no undoing her who was made to undo," she spoke in a low voice. "You _will_ all know my wrath. From within and all around."

Before she even finished the sentence, Dean saw the Mark of Cain on her chest burn off until there was nothing left in its stead but scarred tissue.

"What the—" he mumbled, but just then, he heard Melody shriek and collapse to the ground. She held her arm to her chest, her face contorted in unbearable pain as Dean was trying to make sense of what was going on. Piecing it together, he turned to Amara, who looked at him with a crazed look on her face.

"This isn't over," she whispered in his ear as she threw herself onto the dagger, sending it plunging right into her heart. She collapsed in Dean's arms, who was slowly beginning to figure out what was going on.

"No, no, no," he turned her around in his arms, checking for a pulse, checking for a sign that the Mark of Cain was still on her. "Shit, shit, shit, no. Oh, this is bad. No, no, come on. This is one of your tricks."

But she was dead. She was truly dead. Amara, the person. Not the Darkness. Because as much as he checked, the Mark of Cain was gone. _Shit._

He hurried to Melody's side, who screamed and groaned in agony, cold sweat dripping down her forehead. She held her arm to her chest, but Dean already knew what he'd find there. _Shit._

"Hey," he tried to speak to her softly, but coming off as a bit edgy. "Hey. You're okay. You're good, alright. Here, let me see it."

Melody let out a series of obnoxious curses, each more creative than the last one. "Ugh, it hurts, it burns like a son of a bitch."

"I know," Dean caught her forearm. "I know. Let me see it."

And as Melody extended her arm to him, he felt his breath hitch in his throat, even though he'd anticipated seeing it there. The Mark of Cain. Burned into Melody's flesh. Amara's last card had been well-played. She'd screwed them over big time.

 _Shit._

"Shit," Melody said out loud, hissing through the pain. "This is bad."

Dean didn't have a single word of consolation in him. He'd been there. He'd lived it all. He didn't have it in him to tell her she'd be fine and that she'd pull through. He hadn't. Cain hadn't. Maybe Melody was stronger. Maybe she wasn't. He hadn't. Cain hadn't. In the end, the Mark was the curse you expected it to be.

"How?" Melody gulped and asked. Dean could only shrug.

"No idea. She transferred it somehow. We had her cornered so she sealed herself back into the Mark instead of having us seal her away forever. She switched vessels."

"Shit," Melody repeated. "This changes, again, everything."

"We gotta call Sammy and Emma," Dean fished for his phone in his pocket. "We can't let them complete the trials and lock up hell. This just made it all so much worse."

Melody fell silent. She didn't know how to feel about it yet. She traced the burned flesh around the Mark. Seemed like it was her burden to bear this time around. She just hoped she was strong enough. There was a lot of rage bubbling up inside her already. And if the Darkness managed to harvest that, then she was afraid demon Dean wasn't going to be the worst thing to have been unleashed into this world. She feared that demon Melody was gonna be a ruthless machine. But she wasn't gonna let this happen. One thing at a time. She had to take one step at a time.

"How are you guys with the demon curing?" Dean hurried to ask as soon as either Sam or Emma picked up the phone. She couldn't hear what they said, but then Dean added, "Yeah, you might wanna hold that thought, Sammy. We got a problem."

 **Heya, guys! I know this one's a little short, but the plot twist called for an early ending. Ta daaaam! What do ya think? Doppelgangers gotta stick together, am I right, am I right? You're right, I'm a monster. No regrets, though. Do we have any demon!Melody fans out there?**

 **Let me know what you think!**

 **Lots of love,**

 **xoxo**


	24. Another one for the road

**CHAPTER 23 – ANOTHER ONE FOR THE ROAD**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Steven Stern – Soul of a man~**

"You know what I can't wrap my head around?" Dean broke the silence that had fallen inside the Impala as they drove back to the bunker. "Why? Why would Amara do that? She was trapped inside that Mark for millennia. And I know for a fact she was no fan of that. So why jump right back into it? It makes no sense. She could've dusted us off without even wrinkling her dress."

Melody sighed. She felt like the calm before the storm, and with the Mark taunting her from the skin on her forearm, she was afraid to make any sudden moves. But she got Dean's point. She would have lied to say she hadn't thought about that herself.

"Maybe she was no big fan of the Mark," she answered Dean eventually. "But at least this way, she's staying above ground. Out in the open. If we don't get this thing off me, in a couple hundred years, I'll still be around, and there's gonna be someone dumb enough to free the Darkness again. Like we were. Or maybe you guys will find a way to get it off, in the end, and the Darkness is still released. She was scared. You were so close to stabbing her and trapping her in the dagger. And in hell, she could've rotten for eternity without anyone giving a crap."

Dean had no answer for that. And Melody, Melody was terrified of how on point and how specific that assumption had been. It scared her half to death that she could practically feel the strings of the Darkness extending and reaching and clinging to the corner of her mind like a spider working on its intricate web. It felt like she was being stripped of control. And she hated that. She hated that it was happening again to her, now, just as she was starting to learn how to be her old self again.

"Hey," Dean's voice brought her out of her reverie, and she looked down at her arm to find it twitching. "You'll be fine, kid. I got your back. I'm not letting you make the same mistakes I've made. And we're getting your ass out of this. We fight for each other. 'S what we do, ain't it?"

Melody forced herself to nod, but she couldn't move without it feeling like a lie. God, it was happening so fast. Amara, or whatever was still left of her in that Mark, worked fast and worked brutally her ways into Mel's mind and she felt her claws digging in. She was well-aware that, deep down, beneath those scars that had heeled since she'd returned from hell, there was nothing else but rotten rage and raw emotions buried alive before she could get to them and voice them. But the Darkness had access to those. She had no idea how it had been for Dean, but she felt wide-awake and she knew exactly just how dirty she could get her hands.

"I know you don't wanna let me make the same mistakes you've made," she told Dean, eventually, and she found that even her voice didn't sound like her own anymore. "But you won't have to."

Dean looked sideways at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Melody sighed, "I mean I know what I gotta do. I won't put anyone in danger."

"So, you got a plan?" Dean furrowed his brow and her, and Mel bit her lip furiously until she could taste blood on the side of her tongue.

"Yeah. Yeah, I got a plan. And you guys won't like it."

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Shawn Mendes – Mercy~**

As soon as Melody stepped out of the Impala, it hit her. And it hit her badly. It's like she'd put the thought away – more like shoved it away and buried it under fifty feet of cement – and had refused to even glimpse at it until now.

Sam.

Her Sam.

Would they ever be granted a single minute of happiness? Did she not deserve that much? It's like every time they wanted to catch their breaths, something came around kicking the air out of their lungs time and again. She gulped. Dean looked at her weirdly, as if guessing her thoughts, but if he did, he didn't comment on it.

They walked inside the bunker, Melody with her tail between her legs like never before. What's funny is that, this time, none of it was even her fault. There was nothing she could've done to prevent this. And still, she felt guiltier than never before. Because she'd finally been in a good place and she'd been so keen on staying there, for Sam's sake. And she'd screwed it up. Again.

As soon as they walked into the library, Sam hurried to her side and picked her up in his arms, happy to see her safe and sound. Melody swore she could hear the sound of her heart shattering with every time he whispered in her ear how worried he'd been.

"Emma," she heard Dean whisper under his breath before falling to his knees before her.

Sam let go of her and Mel could finally see in what a poor shape her sister was. She stifled a gasp. To say Emma was in a poor shape was putting it nicely. She looked terrible. Worse than Melody had ever seen her. She was pale as a ghost and her eyes were unfocused even as Dean kneeled in front of her. Her breath was so shallow Melody had to focus to make sure she was even breathing.

"What the hell happened?" she whispered and Sam gulped loudly.

"It was a bit rougher on her than we'd anticipated," he said, vaguely, and Melody narrowed her eyes at him.

She was about to argue more about it, but her attention was drawn to Dean and Emma.

"God, baby, you look terrible," he kept running his hands all over her body carefully, as if she might break in his arms. Emma mustered a broken smile, finally raising her eyes lazily to meet Dean's.

"Not all of us have the," she paused to catch her breath, "the Winchester genes."

Dean let out a tired chuckle. "God, what happened?"

Emma forced a shrug that seemed to exhaust her completely. "I was, uhh, overly confident."

"Cas said she'll be fine, for now," Sam cut it. "Her grace is already healing her, so there's no danger. But we gotta regroup and—"

"Later," Dean interrupted his brother, putting an arm around Emma's shoulders and the other under her knees and scooping her up. Emma let out a small yelp. "She needs to rest. The whole freaking hell can wait."

Without waiting for an answer, he walked away and out of the library, and Melody would be damned if she could blame him. She was worried sick about her sister, too, but she was in the best hands possible. She knew Dean put her above anything else and that he would take care of her as well as he could. But with them out of the picture, all that was left was facing Sam.

She felt her palms growing sweaty and her heart thumping loudly in her chest as Sam placed his hands on her shoulders from behind and started massaging the knots out of them. The Mark under her sleeve burned worse than when Amara had transferred it to her.

"So how did it go?" Sam asked eventually. "Dean said there was trouble. Did you guys trap Amara?"

Melody finally turned around to face him, her heart in her hand and her eyes dancing in tears. It wasn't fair. It was so fucking unfair.

"You could say that," she finally answered her question in a broken voice and Sam frowned when he saw how disheveled she was.

"Mel, what's wrong?" he put a finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "What happened back there? Dean wouldn't tell me over the phone. Just that we had to stop the trials. Did Amara get away? Did she do something to you?"

"Almost, but not quite," she managed to whimper out as she stepped backwards, out of Sam's reach. He frowned even deeper when she put distance between them.

And because Mel knew she couldn't keep dragging this on, she starting pulling her sleeve up until she let the Mark of Cain on her arm stand between the two of them, teasing them and laughing in their faces as if it were Amara herself. Sam staggered a step backwards, his eyes wide and dancing across the surface of the Mark like it was a personal ghost keen on haunting him.

"What the hell happened?" he managed to mutter and Melody had to refrain from flinching at the pain in his voice.

"Dean had her," she explained. "He almost had her. The tip of the dagger had pierced her skin. And then she decided she wouldn't take our shit and sealed herself into the Mark, transferring it to me."

Sam breathed heavily, not making a single step forward to touch her.

"God," he ran his hands over his face. "So it's really it, then? The Mark of Cain?" Melody offered a small nod, not trusting her voice to speak. "God. It still isn't over. It's never over. That thing is dead set on ruining our lives and taking the people I love away from me."

Melody's fingers twitched. She wanted to run them through his hair. She wanted to run her lips across his temple and to whisper in his ear that she was here, and that nothing could take her away from him. That she wasn't going anywhere, not again, because she just loved him that much. She wanted to promise him they'd work through this together and that they'd beat this, too. But she couldn't lie to him. She'd been doing this for too long now and she was tired of all the glitches in their relationship.

But then, Sam exhaled sharply, ran his hands through his hair and cleared his voice.

"Alright," he spoke, more self-assured this time. "We'll fix this, just like we fixed Dean. We've seen this show and we know how it ends. We'll fix it."

"No, Sam," Melody cut him off, and he looked at her with eyes wide in surprise. "We can't. We've seen this show and we know how it ends, but it usually ends in blood. You can't save me every time."

"Watch me," Sam hissed through gritted teeth and Mel shook her head, a sad smile stopping the tears in their track to her chin.

"I know you want that to be true. But the last time we tried to fix this, I ended up dead and you let people die at the hands of a demonized Dean because of grief."

"That was—"

"I'm not throwing blames, Sam," she interrupted him, gripping a handful of her blonde hair. "We're over that. But I'm saying, Amara has broken us before. Or the Mark, or the Darkness, or whatever. I'm not letting her do this to us again."

Sam frowned. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, I need to get it away from the people I love so that it can't hurt them. So that _I_ can't hurt you."

She paused, seeing the realization slowly settle in Sam's eyes. She didn't want to say the words out loud, but the plan was already in motion. Sam clenched his jaw and she knew he was gonna make her say the words out loud. And God, her heart couldn't take any more goodbyes.

"What are you saying, Melody?" Sam repeated the question, expressionless.

"I'm saying I talked to Jace. The best approach is to go away, somewhere I won't have to hold back so that I don't hurt anybody, and somewhere I don't have to worry about that. Dean said it's a good plan, too. Plenty of things for me to kill in Purgatory. Plenty of rage to work out, plenty of evil to let out without it backfiring."

Sam let out an incredulous laugh. "Purgatory? You wanna go to Purgatory with Jace?"

Melody sighed, feeling suddenly more tired than she'd felt in ages. "Yes, Sam. I know you don't agree. I know you'll fight me for it. I also know I'm gonna do it anyway. And if you think it through, you'll see it's the right thing to do. We've seen demon Dean. I can't allow demon Melody to follow in his footsteps."

"Melody—"

"I'm tired and I'm going to bed now. Sit on it. And when you see I'm right and you will see I'm right, come to bed. I'd hate to leave angry at you."

She didn't stick around to see his reaction, walking right past him and down the hallway until she reached their room. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it and it was like every ounce of stress and tension pressed on her shoulders, pushing her down until she was sitting against the door, her head between her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. And Melody Bennett didn't cry. Melody Bennett swallowed up her tears and pushed through. But this time, she just didn't see how she'd ever be able to win it.

She had no idea for how long she'd cried when she heard a knock at the door. She stood up abruptly and wiped out her tears, sniffing and hoping she didn't look too wrecked. But when she opened the door and saw Sam, she was pretty sure he looked even more wrecked than her. His hair looked wild, like he'd ripped out chunks of it, like he'd run his hands through it repeatedly, his eyes were red and crazy and unfocused and he looked on the verge of tears, too. Melody didn't know what to say to him. For a whole minute, they just stood in the doorway, staring at each other until, eventually, Sam broke the silence.

"All we do is say goodbye. I love you. But I can't keep saying goodbye."

And that made it snap between them. Melody couldn't tell which one of them moved first, but one second they were staring at each other, and the next one they were wrapped in each other's arms, breathing each other in and crying in each other's hair. Sam held her so tight against his chest Melody couldn't breathe anymore, that's how dizzy on him she was.

"I wanna say it's the last one," she murmured against his neck. "I want this to be the last one. But I can't. I can't promise and it kills me. I don't wanna say goodbye anymore, either."

Sam pulled away a bit to rest his forehead against his and Melody saw a few tears glinting on his cheeks.

"I can't lose you again, Melody."

She shook her head violently. "You're not. This is temporary. Dean said you guys will work on finding a way to get this thing off me while I'm gone. I'll come back to you. I'll always come back to you, big guy. You made sure of that when you made me fall in love with you. Sneaky move."

Sam let out a breathless laugh. "We'll get you back. I promise. If you don't wanna promise, I'll do it. I'm done saying goodbye."

He closed the small distance between them, catching Mel's lips in a bitter-sweet kiss. Behind them, the door closed. Never had Melody hated saying goodbye more.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Lauv – The story never ends (piano version)~**

Emma cracked her eyelids open, feeling suddenly intoxicated by the smell of Dean wrapped all around her. She remembered him carrying her back to bed last night, but she'd been so exhausted, she had probably fallen asleep before he even laid her down onto the bed. She tried to move, but Dean's arms were wrapped tight around her waist, as if he were afraid she'd disappear. She turned her head just to find him sleeping soundly by her side and she thought she had never loved him more than she did now. His full lips were a little parted, almost pouted and thick lashes shaped his closed eyes. She got so lost counting his freckles, she hadn't even realized he was awake.

"Having fun?" his raspy voice vibrated through his chest into hers and Emma swooned a little at the feeling, blushing at his teasing smirk.

"A lot," she admitted, resting her head in the crook of his neck. His hand went to cup the back of her neck and the other one tightened around her waist. And Emma knew, this was what safety felt like. She had no idea for how long they just laid there, wrapped in each other and simply drowning in each other's presence, when Dean finally broke the silence.

"You scared the living shit out of me," he murmured in her hair, and Emma nuzzled even closer into his side.

"Sorry," she whispered like a scolded child.

"The living shit, Emma," he enhanced. "When I saw you like that… You looked like a ghost. I thought Sam was gonna tell me you had completed the trials and that you hadn't made it and that I'd kneel in front of you and my hand would go right through your cheek when I tried to touch it."

"That's some cheap horror movie trick right there," she tried to joke, but Dean wasn't amused.

"They got the best of you, didn't they?" he didn't bite it. "The trials? You really weren't gonna make it."

Emma sighed. There was no point in lying to him. "I think so, yeah."

"And you were fine with that," his voice lowered with boiling rage he tried to keep in check. Emma turned her head to face him until their noses touched.

"No," she admitted what she hadn't even thought to herself yet, feeling too selfish. "No, I wasn't, Dean. I want this to be over so that we can finally catch our breath. But we are who we are, and that time may never come. If I had to sacrifice myself so that you guys could finally breathe relieved, I would do it. Because no one else could. And I couldn't let Amara have her way with this world. It's my home. And it has you in it."

Dean's eyes watered, but he blinked it away and ran the back of his fingers across her cheek. "No one's sacrificing anything anymore. We'll have our relief. And no one's gonna have to walk away for it. We're sticking together or we go down swinging together. As a family."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen."

Both Dean and Emma flinched when they heard Melody's voice and they turned around to find her leaning against the door, smiling at them.

"Don't promise the girl bullshit, Dean," she walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. "You and I know where we're standing. You can't promise that no one's walking away."

Dean's features darkened and Emma looked confused from him to her sister. She frowned. She sensed something had happened that she didn't know about. She was about to open her mouth and ask about it, but Melody beat her to it.

"Care to let me have a couple of words with my sister, Winchester?" she turned to Dean and, to Emma's complete surprise, Dean kissed her forehead and obeyed, leaving the room without another word. Now, compliant Dean was a rare sight. Something was definitely fishy.

"What's going on?" she questioned her sister, but Melody pretended like she hadn't heard it.

"How are you feeling, Em? Sam told me about the trials and you looked like total crap last night."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks. I'm still recovering. A good night's sleep is underrated. I'm still nauseous and I don't think I could stand if I got out of bed. But I'm healing. I feel the grace working. I should be fine."

"Good," Mel said, then cleared her voice and started speaking before Emma could question her. "So, listen. Shit went down with Amara, but I don't have time for another heart-felt scene. Sam took care of that. It sucks, but it's temporary. So, just keep that in mind, okay?"

"What?" Emma shook her head confused. "You're not making any sense. What happened?"

"Alright," Mel started pulling up her sleeve. "Don't freak out."

But how could she not, Emma thought as her eyes caught sight of the Mark of Cain. The Mark of Cain. On Melody's arm.

"W-What—"

"I said don't freak out," Melody pointed a finger at her sister, who was already hyperventilating.

"Not freak out?" Emma shrieked, forgetting how little power she had and already seeing black around the edges of her vision. "Melody, this is—"

"Huge, I know," her sister interrupted. "But I'm taking care of it. Jace is taking me to Purgatory. I'll kill my way around there until you guys can find a solution."

"Purgatory? God—"

Mel moved closer and put her hands on Emma's shoulders, catching her gaze and holding it firmly.

"Emma, listen to me. I need you to pull yourself together. The boys are losing it. Sam is having it hard, losing me over and over again. Dean is biased and is going all PTSD about it. I need a clear head in the house while I'm gone. I know it's hard. And unexpected and whatever. And it sucks, I know, trust me. But I need you to believe we can fix this, because I'm starting to lose hope and you're kind of an expert in holding on to hope."

Emma let out a shaky breath, her eyes glued to the Mark. She was a bit PTSD about it, too, considering this was what she'd lost the man she loved to once. But then her eyes found Melody's and every word of hers sank it and she found herself nodding. Holding on to hope. She could do that. She was good at that. Maybe. She'd find a way to be again.

"Good," Melody squeezed her shoulders. "I knew you got this. Now I gotta go. Jace is waiting for me outside. Godspeed, sister."

Emma wiped out a rogue tear from her cheek, forcing a chuckle as Melody walked towards the door. "That was so cheesy."

Melody walked down the hallway. She'd said her goodbyes. Again. To Dean, last night, in the car, when he'd proved once again how alike they were. He'd understood perfectly why she was doing this. To Sam, last night, tangled in sheets, sipping on each other's tears and drunk on empty promises. High on how little they were worth. And now, to Emma.

She left the bunker behind, wondering how come that she'd made a home out of this place to the point of feeling like she ripped pieces of herself each time she had to leave it behind. She'd come to care for so many things in a life style where affection gets you killed. They all knew the risks. But love so deep is worth the bumpy road.

She turned her back to her home and headed for her motorcycle where Jace awaited.

"Ready, angel boy?" she asked, forcing a smile that he returned eagerly.

"You know it, blondie."

They both climbed their bikes and as they drove away, it occurred to Melody that she'd never been more terrified of the possibility of not coming back home.


	25. When I lose my heart

**CHAPTER 24 – WHEN I LOSE MY HEART**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Alt J – Hunger of the pine~**

Melody took a deep breath and let it all go. It hadn't been long since she'd gotten the Mark, but she'd been so afraid to even step on the wrong foot. She was afraid of what went down deep into the darkest corners of her soul.

No more.

She took a deep breath.

And she let it go.

The deadly silence of the Purgatory sheltered her and it felt exhilarating to give in to her most feral instincts. She felt goosebumps covering her skin and her heart beat faster than ever. The Mark sang to her. And she didn't hesitate to dance to it.

"You good, blondie?" she heard Jace's voice by her side.

She turned to look at him, her gaze cold and unreadable. It terrified Jace to see her like this, but he didn't let it on. She'd live through this, and when it would have all been over, he didn't want her to remember him judging the things she'd done. He didn't want to be a burden over the guilt she'd carry anyway.

But Melody saw it. She saw the look. Jace was worried. Jace was concerned about the things she was going to do down here and about how many scars this one would leave. She looked away. She didn't care about what Jace thought.

"I'm good," she replied, and she found herself believing it. The air hummed with the smell of blood calling to her and she ached to kill.

"You know," Jace kept talking anyway. "This isn't very good first date material."

Melody remained straight-faced. "We're not dating, Jace."

"See, you keep saying that," he mocked, but Melody saw by the way his shoulders tensed as they walked that he was just as focused as her. "But all I hear is dating."

"Jace—"

"Relax, blondie," he clicked his tongue. "This stays between us. Wouldn't want your boy Sammy to mess up his hair by having to kick my ass."

Yeah, Melody exhaled sharply. Sam. She had to use Sam as a way to ground herself to the things she had to go back to in the end. She felt her humanity being slowly swallowed up by the Mark. Amara must have been really angry. But she had to hold on to the bits than allowed her to stay human for as long as possible. Until Sam found a way to cure her. Until Sam came for her.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Imagine Dragons – Warriors~**

She opened her mouth to respond to Jace, but she was interrupted by a loud growl that seemed to come from everywhere. She felt her muscles tense in response and in anticipation, closing her eyes and allowing her instincts to kick in. The Mark burned bright into her flesh and she let the searing pain set her free. When she opened her eyes, she saw they were surrounded by something close to an army of werewolves.

She heard Jace take in a sharp breath and she felt him go into warrior mode by her side.

They lunged at the same time. It was amazing how in sync they always were. It was just like a well-choreographed dance. When Jace ducked, Mel hit. When Mel dodged attacks, Jace delivered blows. They fought back to back, shoulder to shoulder, blade to blade.

Or so they'd used to. It was different now. Melody felt it, but she didn't mind it much. She didn't mind it at all. She and Jace were usually so impressively compatible in battle, but this time, she no longer acknowledged his presence by her side. She no longer danced with him. She danced alone and she was just as deadly, if not deadlier. She let her steps be guided by the harmony of her blade cutting through flesh, or blood flowing and of last breaths being taken and of groans of agony. And she enjoyed it so much. It felt so exhilarating, letting go like this. She lost count of the bodies she'd dropped. She lost track of Jace around her.

Eventually, she swung her blade and there was no one there to meet it but empty air. She turned around to see Jace a few steps away from her, looking at her with a horrified expression on his face. She pursed her lips and, when his gaze scanned the space around her, Melody followed his eyes.

Huh. Ten, eleven, twelve… She counted what must have been around twenty three bodies. It had been a good day. The hunger inside her didn't scream anymore, but it wasn't quiet yet. The Mark thirsted for more blood. Her hands shook around the blade in anticipation for it.

"Mel—"

"Let's go," she turned her back on him and moved away. She didn't feel like being on the receiving side of a pep talk.

"Melody, listen to me," Jace caught up with her and caught her elbow, making her face him. Fatal mistake. Melody wasted no time before catching his wrist, twisting it around and shoving him face first into the dirt.

"I'd rethink that move next time, angel boy," she sneered at him.

"Mel—" he groaned. "Melody, listen to yourself. You're letting that thing control you."

"Yeah," Melody let out a humorless laugh. "That was the whole point of coming here. Letting go without hurting anybody. Well, not anybody who didn't deserve it."

"Not like this, Mel," Jace tried to calm her down. "Think about it. It took Dean months to keep it under control. You've had it for only days. You're letting it poison your mind already. Listen to me, Melody. I promised I'd come down here with you to keep you in line. And please, let me help you find the line again. If you want to still have something in you that can be saved by the time your family finds a solution."

Melody let him go and Jace released a breath as he stood up to face her. But when he met her eyes, he let out a horrified gasp and stopped breathing for a small second. It happened quick, but there was no mistake. For an instant, Mel's eyes turned black. Onyx black. Demon black. But then she blinked and it was gone. Jace widened his eyes and shook his eyes. Oh, God. This was worse than he'd thought.

"Maybe I don't wanna be saved," she spoke eventually and Jace blinked confused.

"What?"

She took a few steps backwards. "My mind's already poisoned. Amara's trapped. Down here, I'm only as dangerous as I have to be. Maybe there's no need for saving me. I'm fine. I don't care about your lines. I'm free. Consider yourself absolved of whatever promise you made me, my family or yourself. I don't need a babysitter. You can go home, Jace."

She turned around and started walking away. Jace simply stood there, not knowing whether to follow her or to go home and help the others find a way to save her as soon as possible. While there was still something to save. He remembered those flashing black eyes. Maybe it was already too late for that. And he couldn't let her self-destruct like that. With the risk of knowing he'd meet the edge of her blade one of these days, he couldn't leave her alone.

Whether she was aware of it or not.

He let Melody put some distance between them, then followed her. He wasn't sure how exactly he was going to protect her, let alone from herself. But he had to try.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Martin Luke Brown – Bring it back to me (Live acoustic sessions)~**

Sam woke up before his alarm clock even rang. Well, he'd have had to sleep to say he woke up. But last night had been filled with some drifting off here and there from which he'd woken up panting and covered in sweat. It was absurd to feel like that, he told himself every time he woke after another nightmare he didn't even remember. Melody was alive. The choice she'd made, though harsh and hard to handle on his part, had been the right one. She was just taking a time-out while they figured things out.

And though he knew he was being unreasonable, when he turned around in bed and there was a Melody-shaped hole next to him, his heart still sank a little. He let out a heavy sigh and ran his hands over his face in frustration. He felt like a clingy girlfriend. Melody was coming back home. He would fix this and he would bring the girl he loved back home.

But no matter what he did, he missed the hell out of her.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: The Fray – Changing tides~**

~ _Two weeks earlier~_

 _Sam woke up before his alarm clock even rang. Well, he'd have had to sleep to say he woke up. But last night had been filled with Melody tangled between his sheets, curled in his arms and slowly making her laughter the soundtrack of Sam's dreams._

 _When he turned around in bed and there was a Melody-shaped hole next to him because she was stumbling through the bedroom picking up her clothes, his heart skipped an embarrassing beat._

" _What are you doing, Melody?" he asked her groggily. She looked over her shoulder and shot her one of those half-smirks of hers, her ruffled blonde hair framing her gorgeous morning face and Sam admitted to himself once again how weak he was in her hands. All she had to do was smile over her shoulder and he was suddenly wide awake._

" _Caught between saving the world and spending time with my very needy boyfriend, I ran out of clean clothes," she put her hands on her hips and Sam noticed she was wearing one of his T-shirts. Little thief. Not that he minded. They looked better on her than they'd ever looked on him._

" _So what, you're gonna do laundry?" he let out a laugh and she narrowed her eyes at him, determination lighting up her features._

" _Yes. Yes, I am."_

" _Melody Bennett doing laundry?" he mocked her, sitting up in bed and enjoying the way her eyes traveled down his bare torso. "Seems like we're living hard times. Maybe the seals of the apocalypse are being opened again?"_

 _She tossed a pair of dirty jeans at him and Sam caught them mid-air, laughing. "Melody Bennett is learning to be responsible."_

" _Melody Bennett doesn't need to," he told her, patting the place by his side. "C'mere. Melody Bennett doesn't need to. She's too beautiful and badass to do laundry."_

 _She didn't hesitate for a single second before jumping in bed and cuddling into his side like a kitten. "So what do you suggest we do, Winchester?"_

 _His hand found her waist and she arched into his touch as he leaned down and kissed her gently. She gasped into his mouth and buried her hand into his hair, melting into him. He would never get tired of this. It was mesmerizing, really, a fascinating process. People get bored so easily and relationships are so fragile. But he couldn't even fathom that a day would come when he would get tired of the feel of Melody's skin beneath his fingertips, of the taste of her on his tongue, on the trails the tips of her curls left on his arms. She was an endless sea. The more he swam, the more the current swept him away and the deeper the water got. And he was more and more likely to drown in her with each and each day._

" _Well," he whispered breathlessly against her lips. "I'd say we adopt a 'no clothes' policy. Works for both of us. You don't have to do laundry and at the end of the day, who needs clothes anyway?"_

 _She ran her fingers up and down his arms, sending shivers down his spine. She placed a quick kiss on his lips. "Best idea you've had today, Winchester."_

" _And it's still morning," he replied with a smug, teasing grin on his lips. "Just think about all the good ideas I could still get by the end of today."_

 _All that anyone could've heard if they passed outside their door was Melody's giggle as they got lost into kisses and sweet nothings again._

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Zayn – Pillowtalk (from Fifty Shades Darker)~**

Sam got out of bed and took a shower.

He made himself breakfast.

He drowned himself in research about how to save Melody.

He rolled his eyes at every little touch Dean and Emma shared, at every stolen glance and at every smile until he couldn't take it anymore and moved his research party back into his bedroom.

Because there wasn't a Melody-shaped hole in his bed only. There was a Melody-shaped hole in his every waking moment.

He missed her like crazy.

 _~A few days ago~_

 _Things were happening so fast, Sam's head was spinning. Emma was to start the trials tomorrow after having tracked down a family who was supposedly targeted by hell hounds. It seemed like they never got to catch their breath. But on the bright side, Melody had been home from hell for a couple of weeks already and it finally felt like she was in a good place. Sam was having a hard time telling with her, but she seemed calmer. Like all that rage was not gone, but kept under better control. Like she was closer to her old self every day._

 _So they decided to take tonight and make the best of it for a change. Anything could happen with these trials and by the end of it all, Amara would either be trapped or they would be in serious trouble. Tonight might have been the last chance they got to steal some moments just for them only. To pretend like the world didn't need saving for just a couple hours. To pretend like they were a boy and a girl on a date, even if that date wasn't much more than a lousy picnic under the moonlight._

" _It's not lousy," Melody rolled her eyes when Sam commented on that out loud. "Give yourself some credit. It's you and me and some beers and pie and the moon. It's romantic. How many times do we get to do something romantic in our line of work?"_

" _True," Sam agreed, linking his fingers with hers. "But I do want to take you on a real date one day. When all this is over."_

 _Melody sighed. "This'll never be over, Sam. There's always gonna be someone to save or someone in danger or whatever. There's always gonna be something. So this is why this little date that you call lousy is the best thing I could have right now. I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else right now. Here, with you is as romantic as it gets."_

 _Sam looked at her in awe for a minute, smiling from ear to ear. Eventually, Melody groaned and scoffed._

" _I knew it," she complained. "I should've kept my mouth shut. There goes my reputation. Now you're gonna think I'm a dreamy needy teenage girl who draws your name in a heart or something."_

 _Sam laughed and tucked a strand of hair beneath her ear. "And here I was thinking I'm the only one who does the doodling."_

 _That got a laugh out of her._

" _But you know," Sam continued, "come to think about it, it is pretty romantic. This is where we had our first kiss. Remember that?"_

 _Melody took a sip out her beer, playing dumb. "I don't know what you're talking about." Sam nudged her with his shoulder and she laughed. "True. That was one hell of a night."_

 _The air got charged as they both remembered and as their grip on each other tightened. They'd come quite the way. It all seemed so far away now. Their only concern had been staying hidden. Hidden in a small corner of world they had the privilege of building around themselves, like nothing could get to them. Waves can't knock you down if they can't reach you. But then the tide came and swept them away and every sandcastle they'd managed to build got carried away with it. They were left with wet sand and hands too tired to rebuild._

" _Yeah," Sam murmured. "Those were the days."_

 _Melody giggled and rested her head on his shoulder. "It feels so far away. You were so nervous. You were a shaking 6'4'' giant and I could feel your heartbeat through your shirt, against my chest."_

 _Sam let out a breathless laugh and Mel was pretty sure that, if she looked up, she'd find him blushing._

" _You're one to talk," he spoke against her hair eventually. "I picked you up in my arms that night because I was afraid your knees would bail on you and you'd collapse on me."_

 _Mel laughed. "And I'll deny that until the day I die." Her laughter faded and she grew pensive. When she spoke again, her voice had shifted. "You know, not much could get to me once Emma and I got here. I toughened myself up. Even the rush of the hunt, it was all so mechanical. I don't know why I'm like this around you."_

" _Like what?" Sam caressed her cheek and made her look up at him._

" _Giggly," she smiled. "Shaking and weak around the knees. Like every moment is a new thrill."_

" _There's nothing wrong with that, Mel," Sam pressed a kiss on her forehead. "You're like this because you love me. What a miracle."_

 _She laughed. "Might be. Didn't say there was anything wrong with it. I was stating the obvious. It's different. And I'm enjoying this. I'm enjoying you."_

" _Thank God," he whispered and kissed her fast. "Hey. If you had it your way, what's the one place in the world where you'd wanna be right now?"_

 _She rolled her eyes at him and pursed her lips. "Buckle up, Winchester. Incoming cliché. But being here with you kinda feels like enough. I'll take what I can get."_

" _Nope, not acceptable," he shook his head. "You have to pick. Don't settle for what you can get. Think big. What if we could take this lousy picnic anywhere in the world?"_

" _I mean it," Mel argued. "Why would I wanna take it somewhere else? This is the place where it all started, Sam. It's our prologue. I don't want anything else."_

 _Sam kissed her knuckles and fell quiet for a minute. Melody allowed him the time to think it through, enjoying the way their silence was never heavy. It was like hearts started beating in sync when words failed them._

" _No, I won't have that," he spoke with determination eventually and Melody looked up to find him staring blankly ahead with a distant look in his eyes and a dreamy smile on his lips. "Here and now is okay, I guess. But it can't be enough. One day, we'll get one moment to catch our breath. Maybe just one moment. And when that moment comes, I'll grab you and jump on a plane. To Italy, maybe."_

" _Italy?"_

" _Huh," he loosened a breath as if it just occurred to him how good the idea was. "Yeah. Yeah, Italy. You seem like a girl who'd enjoy Italy. Walk the streets of Rome. We could go anywhere, Mel. And we will. We'll start pretending to be normal and healthy every once in a while."_

 _Melody laughed and shook her head incredulously. The idea appealed to her more than she would've liked to admit. She could already see it. She and Sam walking hand in hand and taking silly selfies with the Colosseum. Visit museums and make out with their feet in Fontana di Trevi. It soon turned into an aching need. It was the thing she hadn't even known she wanted. And she wanted it all with Sam._

" _Yeah," she smiled. "Yeah, I'd like that."_

 _She barely managed to finish the sentence that a loud thunder broke in the distance, making Mel flinch a little bit. In no time, the first drops of rain started falling and it soon turned into a full on rainstorm._

" _Great," Sam groaned, his hair already soaked. "What is it with us and rain? Why can't we have one day when we go out and it doesn't fucking pour like there's no tomorrow?"_

 _He stood up quickly and started picking up their stuff, hurrying inside, stopping into place when he noticed that Melody wasn't following him._

" _Melody, what are you doing? It's—"_

" _I know, Winchester," she stood up and rolled her eyes. "Come here."_

 _She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face down to capture his lips. Sam gasped against her mouth and dropped the bottles and the pie and their jackets, wrapping his arms around her waist and picking her up. It took Mel's breath away. Rain was cold around her skin but she felt as if she were on fire. After all this time, storm still managed to reduce them to cold wet lips and limbs and hearts beating frantically and skin meeting skin and fingertips drawing maps across each other's bodies and names whispered over each other's lips._

 _And Sam knew without her having to spell it out for him. It had begun here, in the rain. So rain kept seeking them out because the storm itself had fallen in love with their love. And who could blame it? The greatest stories ever told happen between closed walls and it's up to those who take a peak to tell them on._

" _This is so cheesy," Melody laughed against Sam's lips, enjoying the feel of his wet hair between her fingers._

" _Shut up," Sam captured her lips again. "You love this."_

 _She did._

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Martin Luke Brown – Bring it back to me~**

Sam closed his laptop angrily, grabbed it and threw it across the room. He rested his head on his forearms and grabbed his hair in his fists. This was so fucking frustrating. He had nothing on how to find Melody. Not a single clue.

He stood up and paced back and forth the room, feeling like he was at the edge of his nerves already. All these memories were doing him no good. It was frustrating that when Mel was finally back, and back for good and in a good place, she had to go again. It just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he got to fall in love just to lose her over and over again.

He let out an angry shout and went over to his desk, knocking everything down and breathing heavily. He wanted to run. Fast enough to get to her. He wanted to punch his way through the earth's crust deep enough to get her out of Purgatory. He wanted to scream loud for her to hear him. But she was still away from him and his hands were still tied.

A knock at his door brought him out of his nervous breakdown and he looked up to find Dean studying him.

"Hey, Hulk," Dean called. "If you're done with the temper tantrums, you might wanna come down to the library. We found something."

 **I am so terribly sorry for being so late to update. I have no excuse. It's just that Make me whole again is coming to an end and I'm kinda rushing it so I'm never happy with what I'm writing on it and, in all honesty, I've started working on a new project that has me way too excited to stop writing on it. (It's a lovely romance called Poison and Wine and you can find it on fictionpress under the username dianesky, I'd love it if you gave it a try)**

 **Anyway, I'll try to be more prolific, considering there's only a couple more chapters left.**

 **See ya, fellas!**


	26. To the saints hell's raised for

**CHAPTER 25 – TO THE SAINTS HELL'S RAISED FOR**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Zayde Wolf – Save tonight~**

Melody gripped the blade tight and she felt the deadly silence deep in her bones. The Mark burned bright on her arm, but she didn't look back at the pile of dead bodies she left behind. Instead, she flexed her muscles and inhaled deeply, letting her newly found instincts guide her towards her next victim.

She was insatiable and she was unstoppable and she was free like never before. She cared no longer. She felt Amara's anger flooding from the Mark and into her system and mingling with her own anger and despair that she'd kept bottled up for so long now and she let it all out, poured it all into every blow, into every swing of her blade. She was insatiable. And she was unstoppable. And she was free.

She made her ways through the woods of the Purgatory, killing anything that moved. She smiled to herself ferociously. If she kept going this way, maybe she'd clean up this place. Though where would the fun be in that? Nothing left for her to play with.

She stopped dead in her place as the last body dropped. An ugly vampire who hung out with the last remaining Leviathans these days. She stared blankly ahead as the idea formed into her head. Nothing left for her to kill _here_. Then maybe she'd just have to take it even lower. After all, old rusty werewolves and vampires and shifters and all sorts of dumb creatures were no challenge for this new power she enjoyed so much. Now the real challenge, she'd dig. Something to truly be an opponent, worthy of meeting the edge of her blade.

And she knew just the person.

She gripped the blade tighter and let out a low, feral laugh. Finally, it felt like all that rage had a purpose, a direction. It had all been right in front of her eyes. Of course. What's the point in killing worthless creatures when you can go for the source of all your trouble? With that in mind, she walked away, finally feeling like this Mark could come in handy for something more than boring brutal murder.

From a few steps away, out of Melody's sight or knowledge, Jace watched her. It seemed to him like she couldn't be bothered by the fact that she'd chased him away like a dog. It stung that he'd always been there for her and he wanted nothing more than to help her and she still turned her back on him like she didn't need him. He reminded himself that Melody wasn't really herself, but Mark of Cain or not, that didn't change the fact that even the non-demonic Melody had no feelings about him whatsoever. It was insane to even think about it now, at the wrong time and clearly in the wrong place. But it still hit Jace like a truck remembering how crazy he was about her and her spirit and how alive he felt around her, for the first time in centuries. And how she was totally in love with someone else. And a great guy who was equally crazy about her, at that.

He shook his head to bring himself back to earth – more like under earth or something, he chided himself – and noticed Melody sitting there with a weird smile upon her face. Jace frowned. Oh, he knew that look. She got that look every time she wanted, but really wanted to do something stupid. And it was the look from the point of no return, when she couldn't exactly be stopped. Not that he could've anyway. He wasn't even supposed to be here and still, here he was, lurking in the shadows like a creep.

After a while, Melody let out a small 'huh' and started moving. Jace figured she was looking for the next dozen of monsters to kill, but to his surprise as he followed her, he noticed she was actually keeping a low profile. Oh, she was definitely up to something. He stayed on her trail, trying to make sense of what she was trying to do when it dawned on him where they were headed. He let out a small gasp, then his hand flew to his mouth, worrying she might have heard him. But she was too focused on going on with her plan.

She was headed for the portal.

She was going to hell.

And that could only mean one thing. Holy shit. Demon Mel was going after Crowley. It made perfect sense. She was angry and she was vengeful and she was thirsty for blood. He couldn't let her do that. The Mark made her strong, but he doubted she'd be strong enough to take on the King of Hell.

And he wasn't strong enough to take on demon Melody _and_ the King of Hell. He needed back up.

He looked from Melody to behind him and back at Melody again. Ugh, he didn't know what to do. He couldn't let her go to hell alone, and certainly not like this. The last thing he wanted was to let her out of his sight. But then again, he was of no help alone. She wasn't going to listen. And she wasn't going to stop. If he made a move now, he may have lost her and her trust and her sanity for good. So second guessing himself every step of the way, he turned his back on her.

Sure, he couldn't stop her alone. But he could stop her with a small army. And he knew just the guy who had one within arm's reach.

He had to find Benny.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Milck – Devil devil~**

Melody walked through hell again. They say third time's a charm. And maybe it was. She walked through hell for the third time and it was the first time when she didn't feel a thing. She wasn't afraid. She wasn't angry. She wasn't hateful. She was just thirsty. For royal demon blood. If she closed her eyes, she could hear the Mark painting it all so perfect in her head, in the colors of Crowley's blood. She could practically see it dripping down her blade and onto her boots. And she swore to herself she wouldn't leave his side until the last drop of blood in him poured down her fingers.

Demons lunged at her. She barely noticed them. She dropped them to the floor one by one and walked over their bodies, not even bothering to worry about the small black clouds gathering in her peripheral vision. Maybe that's what Dean saw when his eyes turned demon black. Maybe it was just smoke clouding your vision until it becomes a filter through which you start seeing the world and channeling your fury. Maybe. She didn't care.

She let her blade rip through flesh one last time, missing vital points on purpose and, before pulling it out and letting the demon fall to the floor gasping in pain and cursing at her, she leaned in and whispered in its ear.

"I want your boss to know Melody Bennett is coming for him. And she's out for blood."

She let its body drop and moved on, killing endlessly, flawlessly, deadly. She felt the Darkness hum in content within her, fueling her on and on. Eventually, she knew she was closing in to Crowley. After all, she was a regular down here. She knew just where to find him. And when she made it to the iron doors behind which she knew he'd be, she smirked from ear to ear, feeling her revenge so firm within her grasp. She could taste it on the tip of her tongue and it was sweeter than honey.

She opened the door and found Crowley with his back turned on her. Oh, yes. Third time's truly a charm. The blade shook in her hand, but from raw excitement.

"Squirrel 2.0," Crowley's low, deep voice came. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

But Melody wasted no time with pleasantries. She didn't believe in long conversation to get to know your enemy before you kill him. The need to kill was aching inside her and she needed to quench it. She took out a knife with a devil's trap crested in its handle and threw it. It landed at his feet, not an inch from the tip of the shoe. Crowley looked up at her confused and, to her immense satisfaction, a little concerned.

"Not here to chat, big C," she clicked her tongue and took out another knife with a devil's trap. "Here to kill you," she said, smirking and threw the knife straight into his shoulder. Now, for the big finale.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Natalie Taylor – In the air tonight~**

"So Melodean has gone off rails, huh?" Benny whispered to Jace as they moved through hell, stepping over the bodies of dead demons. Melody had clearly been busy.

"A little," Jace choked. "I knew what was in stock with the Mark of Cain. I just hoped I had a little more time. And that she'd listen to me a little more. Guess I overestimated my weight in her eyes."

There. He'd said it out loud. He'd been so stupid to think he'd be the one Melody listened to. He had no place by her side. It should've been Sam with her down here. Or Dean, as her best friend and someone who had been in her shoes. Or her sister. What was he thinking? He was no one to Melody Bennett. How can a powerful immortal angel be so oblivious to how his own heart betrayed him? How can a celestial being delude himself to this extent?

He felt Benny's hand slap his shoulder. "Don't underestimate your weight in her eyes yourself, brother. You care enough for her to follow her into hell, literally. And if she's anything like my Dean, and I hear she is, then she cares, too, more than she lets on. They're like that, the pair of them."

"I hope you're right, Dracula dude," Jace shot him a smile. "For our sake. And for her own."

They walked in silence for the rest of the way, Jace and Benny leading and Benny's vampires following close by. Jace had expected a little more company, a little more challenge and resistance, to be honest, but Mel seemed to have taken good care of that.

Eventually, following the trail of dead bodies, they made it to two great iron doors, wide open. And inside, Melody walked steadily towards an immobilized Crowley, angel blade in her hand ready to land the fatal blow.

"Melody, stop!"

Jace heard his own voice before he could even register that he'd been the one shouting it. Melody paused and looked over her shoulder, a bored expression over her face.

"I thought I told you to go home, Adriel," she spoke coldly, sending a shiver down Jace's spine. Mel's eyes found Benny's vampires and she turned around. "I see you've brought company. Is this your backup or are they just fresh meat for me?"

Jace stepped forward, ignoring Benny trying to shush down his vampires, who were growling at Mel by now.

"Neither," he spoke slowly. "Mel, they're here to help me get you out of here even against your will. But I really hope it won't come to that. I trust you and me to fix this."

Melody let out a dark snicker. "And you think I can't take them? You just brought them into a death trap, Adriel."

 _Adriel._ There she went with that again. Jace feared she was too far gone already, too beyond reach.

"No," he argued with stubbornness; he wasn't giving up on her just yet. "No, please listen, Mel. You don't need to do that."

"Oh, I know," she swung the blade back and forth. "But I want to. And I'm gonna. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."

Jace swallowed hard and dared take another step. "I know. I can't stop you. But I trust you to."

Melody blinked once. Twice. Her lips curled upwards. She grinned. Then she burst out laughing.

"You see," she shook her head amused. "That's where you're wrong."

She moved fast enough and, before Jace could even realize what was happening, her blade was already flying towards Crowley. Jace didn't have time to react, but Benny was fast enough. He moved at vampire speed and caught the blade mid-air, then pulled the devil trap dagger out of Crowley.

"Get out, mate," he told Crowley. "She ain't messing around."

Crowley got up and moved to attack Melody, but then seemed to reconsider and straightened his tie.

"This isn't over, Squirrel 2.0," he hissed. "There'll be no place for mercy next time."

And just like that, he vanished into thin air. Melody looked frantic. It looked like she wanted to lunge for Benny, and Benny was ready, but instead, she turned to Jace and snarled at him.

"You motherfucker," she screamed. "I had him. I was gonna end him once and for all! _I_ had no place for mercy!"

"I know," Jace moved closer, speaking softly.

"You're in my way, Adriel. Don't think I won't kill you."

"I know." Another step.

"There's nothing stopping me," she hissed at him, breathing heavily as Jace prompted himself in front of her.

"I know," he spoke in an almost hushed tone and he saw Melody's grip tightening around the blade. He curled his fingers around her wrist. "There's nothing stopping you. I'm right here, yours to kill. I'm right here and in love with you, blondie. Have been for a while. It's sink or swim this time."

She huffed in his face. "You think your little crush means something to me? That it can erase the fact that you took away my revenge?"

Jace smiled sadly. He was still holding her wrist and her grip was a little looser. "Never dreamed it would. So kill me. I took away your revenge."

Small black smoke clouds danced around her irises, seeking shelter. She pursed her lips and her hand trembled in anticipation around the dagger. But then the smoke clouds were gone.

"I'm right on the edge, Jace." _Jace._ "And I wanna jump. I'll jump. You wanna push me? Don't need to. I'll jump and nothing will be able to catch me then. The Mark wants your blood and frankly, I wanna spill it, too. You really think you can stop me?"

"No," he shook his head and released her wrist just to run his knuckles over her cheeks; she remained expressionless. "I can't stop you. I know I'm not enough for you, Melody. But the people you love are. You have something waiting for you back home. Sam is. He's enough to make you step away from the edge. And I promised there'd still be something for him to return to."

At the mention of his name, he saw a little light dance in her eyes and _something_ flashed on her face. "Sam?"

"Sam," he repeated. "The one who deserves you, Mel. And you deserve your life with him. Don't let that thing take that away from you."

He let his hand drop. There. It was out there. Her eyes were fixated on his and it was as if she looked for something in them. Something he wasn't sure he had. And it seemed like she realized it, too.

"You're right," she spoke eventually, never taking her eyes off his, her face hard to read. "But that's the thing, Jace. It already has."

And before Jace could realize what was happening, she raised the hand holding the blade and drove it straight through his heart. His mouth opened in one small last gasp and his hands found her shoulders. Whatever he wanted to say to her, he didn't get to. She heard Benny and the vampires hiss and flee, but she paid no attention to them. Jace fell to the ground, the pattern of his wings imprinting on the floor as he drew his last breath, his cold dead eyes staring right at Melody with endless sadness.

Melody took a step back and brought up her hand. A few black shapes emerged from under her sleeve and she pulled it up. It looked like feathers. She looked on the ground again and noticed a small discontinuity on the edge of one of Jace's wings and realized that the missing part was now on her hand. She'd been marked. The Mark of Cain on one hand, Jace's wings on the other.

She pulled her sleeve down and walked away. She felt nothing.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Stephen – Remembering myself~**

Dean turned the laptop towards Sam and his eyes travelled over the article, comparing it to the open books surrounding him that Dean and Emma had done their research from.

"The, umm, the Book of the Damned?" he looked up at Emma and his brother expectantly.

"Yup," Dean nodded. "Dark magic, powerful stuff. Hard to get our hands on, but I think there may be something in it to help us get that Mark off Melody and lock up Amara."

"Yeah, I can see all that," Sam frowned. "Emma, what can you tell me?"

Dean huffed offended, taking it personal that Sam was turning to Emma for the nerdy details since his review hadn't been insightful enough. Emma shot him a teasing smile and turned to Sam.

"Like Dean said, powerful, dark stuff. It was written maybe 700 years ago by a nun that made sort of a compilation of spells to break curses after getting all sorts of visions of darkness, as she called it. She wrote in in blood and on pages made of her own skin. Dark as hell. Cults and covens had it and even Vatican, for a while. As far as I've been able to find, it disappeared 100 years ago. However," she took the laptop and typed in something, then turning it back to Sam, "I've tracked it down somewhere in Europe, to some monastery that's supposedly burned down. We can start there."

"Great," Sam mumbled and stood up. "When do we leave?"

He saw Dean and Emma exchange a glance and he frowned, looking back and forth between them. "What?"

"Yeah, about that—" Dean started and Emma caught his arm.

"Dean?" she spoke softly. "Give us a minute, will you?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth as if he was going to argue, but he must've known better than to go against his girlfriend. He sighed, defeated, and walked out of the library. Emma turned to Sam and motioned for him to sit, then did the same herself.

"You're not well, Sam," she started abruptly, and Sam raised his eyebrows surprised.

"Sorry?"

"You're not well," Emma repeated. "You barely sleep, you barely eat, you lock yourself in your room and you rage out. You do know we'll get her back, right?"

Sam sighed and ran a hand over his face, feeling more hopeless than ever. No, not hopeless. Just endlessly frustrated.

"I guess," he said eventually. "I'm just at the end of my nerves. I keep losing her."

Emma drew in a shaky breath. "I know, Sam. Trust me, I know. But Mel's tough. She'll get through this. Dean did. But it seems to me like you may have hit a wall here."

Sam sighed. "I don't think I'm following, Em. What are you saying?"

Emma looked for her words, blushing a little and Sam knew he wasn't gonna like what she had to say.

"Look," she said finally, "don't take this the wrong way. You're my best friend and I want what's best for you. And right now, that's some peace. With or without Melody, as much as you don't like it."

"I'm still not getting—"

"Just listen," she cut him off. "I promised Mel we'd be fine without her and that we'd find a way to save her, right? She needs us all to be strong for her, Sam. She needs her pillars. So I guess what I'm saying is, I'm going to Europe. With Dean."

Sam frowned, trying to make sense of her words. She was going to Europe. With Dean. To get the Book of the Damned. Which meant he…

He stood up from the chair abruptly, almost sending it flying behind him.

"What?" he raged. "Emma, I'm not staying behind doing nothing—"

"Yes, you are," Emma stood up, too, staring Sam down and squaring her shoulders; against himself, he shut his mouth. "Sam, you're not helping anyone like this. You need to pull yourself together. We all miss her. We've all lost her. A few times already. Well, tough luck. It's not a bit harder for you than it is for her or for me. So toughen up, Winchester."

He gulped as he took in her words. He fell speechless. He had to admit, he hadn't been himself since Mel had left to Purgatory. He was truly frustrated and hopeless. And he didn't think Mel would've been too proud of him right now. Emma fell in her chair again, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Look, it's not like you can't do anything," she softened her voice again. "The Book of the Damned won't be in English. Lore says it's supposed to be in some Sumerian dialect. So you dig up on that so that we have some grounds to start on. Then it's game on to save Mel. Okay?"

Sam closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Then opened his eyes. "Okay."

"Good," Emma smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to pack. I'm going to Europe."

 **I'm sorry, yo. I am. I don't know about you, but I loved Jace. I am a terrible person.**

 **Considering this story happens on a different path than Supernatural, there are some things that aren't like in the show, like Benny and the Book of the Damned, so feel free to ask whatever it is you have trouble following. Tell me what you think and don't hate pls.**

 **Lots of love,**

 **xoxo**


	27. Down so low

**CHAPTER 26 – DOWN SO LOW**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Rosi Golan – Can't go back~**

Dean was humming quietly to himself and his knee kept bouncing up and down anxiously. Emma glared, but she let him be. She knew how scared he was of planes. Well, he'd made quite a point on that, so it was impossible not to be painfully aware of it. She tried to nod off a little when she caught his tune.

"Are you humming Metallica?" she blinked at him and the tips of his ears turned red.

"Shut up," he mumbled under his breath. "It calms me down."

Emma couldn't hold back a smile and she placed her hand on his knee to keep it from bouncing.

"Dean," she leaned in soothingly. "Relax. We'll be fine. This is as safe as can be."

He huffed. "Yeah. That's what Sam said the last time and some crazy demon nearly crashed us."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Dean, there's no crazy demon—"

"How can you be so sure?" he cut her off, but she just glared, making him realize how absurd he sounded. "Okay, fine. Point made. Planes give me anxiety. Whatever. Shut up."

Emma chuckled, shaking her head. "You're so cute."

"Shut up," he repeated, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not cute. You're cute."

"I am," Emma teased him back.

"Whatever. You are, but that's not the point. Now tell me something to distract me. Anything. Make it dirty. Yeah, that should work."

Emma slapped his arm playfully. "Perv. I'm not telling you dirty stories. Besides, I can't keep talking to distract you for ten hours straight, Dean. It's a long flight to Paris."

He pretended to think for a brief minute, then he turned to her with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Well, I do have some other ideas I'd love to share with you if you're interested," he wiggled his eyebrows and Emma was having too much trouble holding back laughter at his silly expression to be bothered to roll his eyes or slap him.

And in all fairness, her mind was elsewhere ever since Dean had asked her to tell him a story to distract him and she'd pointed out it was a long flight to Paris. To Paris. The story started catching shape in her head so quick that it was distracting _her_. She could picture it in her head so vividly. A life where she and Dean could go to Paris without having an imminent threat hanging above their heads. Where they could take silly selfies with the Eiffel Tower, because Dean totally would. A life where he'd shove pie in his mouth in a café on a corner while listening to her explain boring medical stuff to him, not because he cared or understood half of what she was saying, but because he loved seeing her so excited, seeing that glint in her eyes. She could picture him in the Louvre.

" _What's the big deal about this Mona Lisa chick? She ain't even that hot."_

" _Dean, shush. And behave. Mona Lisa is a masterpiece of the Renaissance. She's supposed to be an icon of all that represents beauty and mystery."_

" _Icon, my ass. Whatever. You're prettier."_

Emma almost chuckled at the thought. Because she could hear him saying that co clearly in her head.

" _What was it with those sculptor dudes and tiny dicks?"_

" _Dean!"_

" _I'm just saying! I mean, if you're gonna sculpt a dude and put him in a museum for, like, centuries, might as well pick a more gifted model. I'd be happy to pose for ya if you ever go into sculpting."_

She had to stop thinking about stuff like that or she'd put herself in a bad mood. This was the life they were living and there was no changing that. Day dreaming and pining for something that was never gonna happen was doing her no good.

Dean must have noticed the shift in her mood because his leg stopped bouncing and he turned to face her, a curious frown on his face. Well, now that she thought about it, he did have that Greek sculpture thing going on for him.

"You good there, short stuff?" he asked, and she swore her heart would grow so much it would make her chest explode with happiness. It was just so Dean to be concerned about her when he was two breaths short of a panic attack from the flight.

"Yeah," she smiled at him. "Just got lost in thought for a minute there."

"Wanna talk about it?"

And because she couldn't help herself, she sighed and let it out. "I don't know. I hate that we're on a plane to Paris and that our main goal is to retrieve some ancient book that'll help us cast the Darkness out of my sister so that she can return from Purgatory."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "Huh. Well, when you put it like that…"

"Right?" Emma huffed in frustration. "I just can't help but wonder if we'll ever be able to do normal couple stuff. If things will ever be normal for us, or if we're stuck fighting evil for the rest of our life without a single second to catch our breath. I wanna be able to enjoy a normal relationship with my normal boyfriend."

Dean grew pensive for a few moments and Emma worried she might have overwhelmed him. Dean Winchesters wasn't great at relationship talk, as amazing as he was at actual relationships. The last thing she wanted was to freak him out by some conversation he didn't feel like having. But just as she was about to brush everything off and move on, he beat her to it.

"So," he started, looking straight ahead, "who is this normal boyfriend you're speaking of? Should I worry? Cause you know me, Em, I'll kick his ass. Nobody messes with my girl."

Emma laughed. "Dork. You know what I mean."

He reached and took her hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. "I know. But, babe, normal relationships? We'll never have that. Because we ain't exactly normal. And that's fine."

"Is it?"

"Totally. We are who we are. And I love you for who you are and I bet you love me for who I am. You'd better, otherwise this is getting really awkward. Point is, we'll have to make do with what we have. And if that's a weird, dysfunctional attempt at a relationship in which we get possessed by whatever entity three times a week, so be it. We'll work it out. We always do. Because I love you no matter what."

Emma blinked back tears and squeezed his hand back. "You giant romantic teddy bear."

He laughed and clicked his tongue. "You know me. Like I said, I am who I am."

"And I love you for that, right?"

"Sure hope so," he replied, and for a second, Emma could swear she saw a trace of doubt in his eyes. Of course Dean Winchester didn't feel worthy of the love he had even as he bathed in it. She knew he was still having a hard time accepting the fact that he deserved her. And in all fairness, Emma did, too. After these past years of utter misery, she was still skeptical to admit that Dean Winchester was the calm after the storm. Yeah. They were really dysfunctional like that.

"How's that anxiety working?" she asked him.

"More manageable now," he sighed. "Maybe I'll just take a nap until Paris. And then we can go look for the ancient book that will help cast out the Darkness out of your sister so that she can come home from Purgatory."

"Wow," Emma chuckled. "You were really serious about that dysfunctional part."

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Matthew and The Atlas – Out of the darkness~**

It had been days since Emma and Dean were gone and Sam was slowly losing his mind. He was starting to get vertigo every time he opened a book and all the notes he'd taken on the Book of the Damned and how they'd translate it upon finding it were so chaotic he was having trouble understanding them himself.

He missed Melody. But he tried not to dwell on that.

He woke up in the morning, barely dragging his feet to the shower. He stripped off his clothes lazily and allowed the hot water to hit him in the back of his neck like a rainstorm, allowing it to soothe his aching muscles and to wash away some of the heaviness upon his shoulders.

He missed Melody. But he tried not to think too much about that.

He made his way to the library. He decided today wasn't gonna be a day for research, but a day for putting his notes in order. They were of no use to them if they couldn't make anything out of them. The task proved to be harder than he'd thought in this state of mind. He got up, poured himself a cup of coffee. Pondered for a moment, then dropped the mug in the sink and took the whole pot with him.

He missed Melody. But he tried not to let that get to him.

He spent the whole day working on those notes until the information looked at least somewhat decent. Readable. God, his self-control was in shreds these days. He'd never felt more helpless, more desperate than now. He was growing tired and he was growing frustrated. With himself. With this life. With Melody for constantly leaving him.

It was way over midnight when the door to the bunker flew open and Dean and Emma walked in, looking exhausted and with their feathers well ruffled. Wow. If Sam thought he looked bad, Emma and his brother were in even more terrible shape.

"Hey," he greeted them a little surprised. "You're back soon. Didn't you say yesterday you were about to talk to the friar that buried the Book in that crypt?"

"We did," Emma landed in a chair. "We got the book. Which turns out is on the wanted list of many people."

"Yeah," Dean confirmed, shrugging off his jacket and dropping in a chair next to Emma, rubbing his face. "This crazy mob family or whatever, the Styne Family, is after it, as well. So that gets us on their wanted list. So from Paris to Spain and now back here, this better be worth it. We got the Book of the Damned."

Sam extended his arms, his eyes wide. "Well… That's good. That's great, right? We're one step closer to getting Mel back and getting rid of Amara for good."

"Love the optimism, big guy," Emma smiled tired at him. "It's true, what you just said. But one step closer is still miles away. The Book is in some Sumerian dialect, according to what the friar told us."

Sam pushed the notes towards them. "That shouldn't be much of a problem. You see, while you were gone, I—"

"Look, Sammy," Dean pushed the notes back to him. "We just spent ten hours on a plane. And you know how I am with planes. We spent nearly two weeks chasing this shit and then the past 48 hours on the run from that crazy mob family. Feel free to nerd out and do your thing with it. I just want a hot shower and a long, long nap."

He didn't wait for Sam's reply before patting his shoulder and walking out of the library, practically dragging his feet. Emma smiled ruefully at him and stood up herself.

"Sorry, Sammy. I'd normally stick up with you and give Dean an earful about this one. But these two weeks have been pretty crappy. We could really use a break."

Sam offered a warm smile. "Yeah, don't sweat it, Em. I got this."

Emma patted his shoulder, too and just like that, Sam had the rest of the night just to himself to crack the secrets of the Book of the Damned

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Royal Deluxe – Down so low~**

"Morning, Sammy," Dean yawned as he walked into the library, wearing his gray robe and his bed hair. Seeing his brother, he paused and frowned at him. "Dude. Did you sleep at all?"

Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes, large palms barely covering the giant dark circles under them. "Not really. I stayed up trying to translate the Book of the Damned."

"Son of a bitch," Dean mumbled under his breath. "Any luck at least?"

"Not really," Sam replied, turning to Emma, who'd just walked into the library as well, looking just as sleepy as Dean. "Morning, Em. So I managed to translate it partially. It's some really obscure Sumerian dialect, but that, I was ready for. The problem is, it seems to be ciphered. It must be written in some sort of code, because not much of it makes sense."

"Oh, crap," Emma breathed, sitting down in front of him. "Of course it couldn't just be simple. Like opening the Book to a random page and going like, 'Oh, here, spell to cast away the Darkness from people'. No, sir. It has to be coded."

"Looks so," Sam replied. "I tried running it through some algorithms and into some programs on my computer, but it was a dead end. Even the Men of Letters's decoders were a dead end. So we're stuck."

"I may be able to help with that."

Emma and the Winchesters flinched and turned around to find Crowley standing a few feet away from them.

"What the—" Dean started. "What are you doing here?"

"Negotiating," Crowley stepped forward. "I believe it's a common strategy in war."

All four of them just stared at each other, until Sam broke the silence. "Mel came for you, didn't she?"

"Yes, the she-squirrel paid me a visit," Crowley scoffed. "Not that pleasant, I must add. I'm not particularly fond of knives against my throat."

Sam cursed under his breath, running his hands through his hair in utter despair.

"So she's gone off the rails, huh?" Dean was the one to ask the question on everyone's tongues.

"Oh, yes," Crowley replied. "Badly."

"But, but…" Emma stammered, pacing back and forth. "What about Jace? He went with her to help keep her in check. Why isn't he keeping her in check, where is he?"

"Dead," Crowley replied emotionlessly, and the three of them gasped in unison, making him roll his eyes. "Yes, how very tragic. Now if we could get to the damn point."

"Jace is dead?" Emma shrieked. "What the hell happened?"

"Your sister happened," Crowley raged, and the entire library fell silent under the heaviness of his words; Melody had killed Jace. "That's how bad she's getting. She killed her feathery lap dog and she's coming for me. She's out for blood and I'm on her hit list. Now do you or do you not want my help with this?"

No one spoke at first, but it was clear they were thinking the same thing. This was what you'd call the point of no return. Melody had killed someone she cared about, and as Dean knew best, there's no coming back from that. You're doomed to be haunted by it forever. And they didn't know if Melody could survive, at least mentally, another breakdown. But they could worry about that later. Save her from the Darkness first, save her from herself later.

"How exactly do you plan on helping us?" Sam was the first to speak and, in response, Crowley threw a thick book on the table, next to the Book of the Damned.

"What's this?" Emma asked.

"It's a Codex. The instructions to your new toy." The Winchesters and Emma exchanged odd glances and Crowley replied with a smirk. "What? Don't think I haven't kept tabs of you folks. That thing's coded and this is the key to decode it."

"And how could you have gotten your hands on that?" Sam demanded.

"I'm the King of Hell, moose. I happen to know just the right witches."

"And why?" Dean hurried to ask. "Mel wants your ass locked up in hell. Why would you help us help her?"

Crowley barked a laugh. "Ah, about that. Don't think I won't fight back." He stepped forward to stand in front of Dean threateningly. "I will fight back and I'll win this little war of yours. This whole thing is just to get your minion off my property. I don't respond well to being nearly killed. Twice now. Third time, it's gonna be her. And I enjoy our partnership, Dean. I'd rather we kept our relationship professional."

Emma narrowed her eyes. His explanation made sense. He wanted Mel out of where she could always come back for him. And he was scared of her. Seeing the King of Hell scared about his life being threatened by Melody told them just how dark she'd gotten. Cowley was confident about winning the war. He wasn't that confident about winning a hand-to-hand, one-to-one battle with Mel alone. But while it made sense, it didn't mean she was eager to just jump on the opportunity. Knowing Crowley, she was sure he had an agenda to his actions. This was no work of charity on his behalf.

Before being able to question him on his motives, though, Crowley vanished into thin air, leaving them baffled. They stood around the Book of the Damned and the Codex looking perplexed. Eventually, Sam mustered up the courage and opened the Codex, flipping through the pages.

"I don't know, guys," he sighed. "Seems pretty real to me. I don't know if Crowley was telling the truth about wanting to get Mel off his ass or he has some ulterior motive, but this might be our shot at getting her back."

"So what now?" Emma asked.

"Now," Dean grinned, "now we go get our girl back."


	28. You are not a human being

**CHAPTER 27 – YOU ARE NOT A HUMAN BEING**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Zayde Wolfe – Save this city~**

"So what's the plan?"

Emma and the guys sat around the table, with the Book of the Damned and the Codex teasing them, trying to cook some big plan to bust Mel out of Purgatory and to deal with this Darkness business for good.

"Well," Dean started, "we stick to the original plan. We need the brains dealing with the nerdy stuff. You guys figure out the spell to get Amara out of Mel and into the hole and I go get Rapunzel from Purgatory."

"I'm starting to feel a little left out for being the only one who hasn't seen this Purgatory place," Emma tried to joke, but it didn't seem to reach Sam and Dean.

"Trust me, Em," Sam offered a tight smile. "You're not missing anything out."

"So we're good?" Dean asked, already grabbing his guns. "Cause I need to get myself an angel to get me in an out of there, now that Jace is roasted."

"Dean!" Emma gaped at him and even Sam glared a little.

"What?" he shrieked. "Okay, sorry. Too soon, I guess."

Emma and Sam shook his head at his insensitivity and Dean tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans.

"I should go with you," Sam sighed, and Emma could tell the thought had been on the tip of his tongue since the beginning of this conversation. "I'm the one who should bring her home. If she's gone that bad, she'll listen to me. She has to."

He stood up and paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair. He didn't believe the words for a second, but despair still nudged at the doorway of his mind and he didn't know how long the doors would hold. He needed Mel home, safe and sound. Having Dean fetch her for them… it didn't sit right with him. And what were they gonna do afterwards anyway? Lock her in their basement like a monster? Melody wasn't a monster. She just needed to have that reminded to her.

"Absolutely not," Dean didn't even look up. "Trust me, Sammy. I know first-hand what's going on with her. Except this time, Amara's pissed and Mel was in bad shape already. She's gonna be demon me multiplied. And if she killed Jace, we don't know what she's capable of. And you don't have it in you to do whatever it takes."

"Whatever it takes?" Sam shrieked. "Dean, it's Melody. It's not some monster that we hunt."

"Well, right now she is, Sammy," Dean raised his voice. "I ain't gonna hurt her. Rapunzel's still my little sister. But I'm not going easy on her." He sighed. "You nerds do your thing. I'll have her back."

Without another word, he turned on his heels and walked out of the bunker. Sam's shoulders dropped and he fell in a chair, rubbing at his temples with his index and his thumb. Emma could tell he was so tired. She wondered if he even slept these days. Boy, she could already hear Mel giving her an earful about not taking better care of her boyfriend.

"Sam," Emma put a hand on his shoulder. "He's right and you know it."

He looked at her like she'd just kicked him in the shins. "Not you, too, Em."

"No, just think about it, Sam. What if Mel's gone all demon? Look, nothing stopped Dean months ago from killing Melody in the blink of an eye. He almost killed me, too. Because he wasn't himself. And Mel isn't either. Now, you love her, but that gives you tunnel vision. Could you knock her out and bring her home in chains, if that's what it took?" He didn't have to answer, because she could read it in his eyes. "Yeah, that's what I thought. But if it's any consolation, I don't think I could either. That's why Dean was the best choice."

"Okay," he replied eventually. "Okay, you're right. So we're stuck with desk duty. Let's get to work."

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Halsey – Gasoline~**

She looked around. The blade felt like an extension to her arm and it was thirsty for blood. She stood tall, among the trees, her senses sharp for any sort of movement. And when her blade swung, heads fell. And she couldn't stop, shouldn't stop, wouldn't stop. The Mark of Cain on one arm, the mark of Jace's wings on the other, the battle inside her was fiercer than ever.

And Amara was winning.

It was like a feeling of drowning endlessly. Of falling, but never hitting the bottom. It was all the anticipation of the impact and the panic of the freefall. They say there's a light at the end of whatever tunnel, but what do you do when you get out of the tunnel on a night with new moon?

She heard the Darkness screaming inside her, deafening her and numbing her senses. _Kill, kill, kill,_ it whispered in her ear. _Obliterate. Erase. Let go._

She thought of Sam and how disgusted he'd be to watch her having fallen so low. She thought of Emma, who always made excuses for her. Could she ever excuse the monster her little sister was turning into? She thought of Dean. From monster to monster, he'd maybe be able to understand. Or maybe he'd expected her to be stronger than he had been. What a disappointment she'd turned out to be.

She thought of Jace and her arm itched. She ignored the black feathers, because she had just killed a man who had loved her too much for his benefit.

 _Don't think. Kill, kill, kill. Obliterate. Erase. Let go._

And she did.

She gripped the blade tight, closed her eyes and listened. For what might have been several minutes. With her sight cut off, her whole body focused on catching movement. And when she finally did, she moved in a split second.

There could have been werewolves, vampires, shapeshifters, Leviathan, she didn't care. They were all but heads to drop, flesh to meet the edge of her blade, blood to spill at the feet of the Darkness craving it. A whole pack of monsters jumped her. She killed four, five, then ten, twelve. It was almost too easy and it was getting less and less satisfying. Death was too simple. Oblivion was too forgiving. The swing of a blade was too merciful. And the Darkness was loud within me, no longer craving blood, but pain and misery and torture.

She lunged for the last creature, pinning him against a tree under her blade. He yelped as she drove the tip all over his face, drawing blood every now and then. Then she moved the blade to her lips and licked it, a horrible smile blooming across her lips as her eyes started dancing with black smoke.

"Who… Who are you?" the creature whispered. "What are you?"

She pressed the blade tighter into his skin until drips of blood down her fingers, covering her wrists, soaking her dirty sleeves. The rusty smell of it flooded her senses and she could practically taste it on the back of her tongue.

"Oh, I'm a nightmare, alright," she sneered. "I'm the fucking queen of this place."

Yeah. It sure had a nice ring to it. Why simply kill until it started losing satisfaction? She could own this place. She could torture and inflict pain until she'd make the Mark sing her own tune. She was gonna be the story they tell at night. The thing they feared. The big bad villain kids hid under their blanket from and whose name old people barely whispered. The devil himself had nothing on her.

She let the creature go and he stayed there, frozen, as if not daring to believe it yet.

"Go," she hissed at him. "Tell everyone. Spread the word. I'm coming for all of you."

The guy took off in a heartbeat and Melody didn't even have time to count her winnings and inhale the satisfaction of fresh spilled blood and of the terror still lingering in the air, because she heard a slow clap behind her. Like mocked applause.

"Nice speech, Rapunzel. Almost had me."

She turned around and a pair of green eyes all too similar to her own stared back at her.

Dean Winchester.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Tribe Society – Kings~**

Melody clicked her tongue and took him in. She could see the similarity better now that he was here. Maybe he didn't bear the Mark anymore, maybe it was her turn this time around. But there was something about both of them. A misery, a bitterness maybe. But they belonged down here. Too bad Dean had chosen the righteous path after all. With the raw anger and pure unaltered abandonment to instincts alone, they could burn this place to the ground. Not that there was much left of it. But ruling over ruin has a certain call itself.

"Welcome home," she greeted him, gripping the blade tight, and Dean pursed his lips.

"Not exactly," he replied. "But that's where we're going."

Melody bared her teeth into a feral smile. "How delusional you must be."

"Am I?" he taunted her.

"Failing to meet my expectations of you, I see. You really think you can get me to come with you other than kicking and screaming?"

He cocked his head to one side as if considering it, then stared her down. "If I have to."

Melody threw her head back laughing. "You're worse than delusional, Winchester." She extended her arms, her length and the dark aura she emanated practically swallowing the horizon. "This is my kingdom, Dean. And you know damn well what I'm talking about. You've been here. You've felt it. You know how pure and exhilarating it is to kill for the kick of it. Without answering to anyone. I ain't going nowhere." She stepped forward, taunting him. "And if you think you're a match for me, think twice. Whatever you felt with the Mark, it doesn't compare with this. Amara's pissed. I'm stronger than you ever were."

Dean stepped forward, too, the rage and the tension stretching between them like a silent scream making their ears bleed. It was all a matter of who moved first.

"Oh, I'm getting you home," he whispered, the sound of so little still sounding like nails on a chalkboard. "Doesn't matter how. In chains, if I have to."

Melody clicked her tongue again, shaking her head. She raised the blade slightly, making her intentions clear. She wasn't backing down. She'd already killed Jace. She was past the point of no return. She was past saving. She'd given up, given in and she'd learned that past rock bottom there's more freefalling, endlessly into the abyss. She was oddly fine with having to drop Dean.

"You don't get it, do you?" she sneered. "You can't beat me, pretty eyes. I'm not getting out of here alive. And neither are you."

"Oh, I think it's you who doesn't get it," he reached to the belt of his jeans so subtly, the movement escaped Melody's eyes; maybe her lust for blood came to his advantage this time. "You see, we've danced this dance before. I know the steps. Yeah, yeah, I get it, I'm not getting you out of here alive. But that's the point you're missing. I never had any intention to."

Before Melody could blink or react or even process his words, Dean pulled out the Colt and shot her straight between the eyes.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Halsey & Melanie Martinez – Castle/Dollhouse Mashup~ **

Sam gritted his teeth. He stood up, ran a hand through his hair and, because he couldn't keep himself together, punched the nearest wall. To keep from punching his brother. Then, with bloody knuckles, he turned to Dean.

"You said you wouldn't hurt her," he whispered, which in all honesty, was scarier than if he were screaming.

Emma pulled her knees to her chest. This was all too overwhelming. Melody was in their basement, chained down inside a devil's trap. Dead. With a bullet between her eyes.

Dean kept telling them it had been the only way. That she wasn't really dead. Well, she was, but she was coming back, because the Mark of Cain granted her immortality. So yeah, she was coming back. As a demon. And as much as Dean told them that, she couldn't get the image of Melody out of her head, her eyes wide open, a hole in her skull, in Dean's arms. Dead. Killed by Dean. Again. It gave her chills all over.

"Look, Sammy, if you'd just stop bitching out about it, I could—"

Emma closed her eyes. Oh, this was not a good moment for Dean to be messing with Sam. Sam was on the edge like she'd never seen him before. Not even when Mel had died for good. After weeks without Melody and now for Dean to return her to him dead… Again… She couldn't begin to understand how he was feeling.

"Bitching out?" Sam shrieked. "Dean, those were the words that came out of your mouth. That you weren't gonna hurt her. I think killing her counts as murder."

"I know," Dean raged. "It was the only way, Sammy. I had no chance against the Mark. I know you're biased, but you have to see this. I had to pull the trigger if I wanted to bring her back home. She's gonna come back as a demon and Emma is gonna cure her as the last trial. It's a good plan."

"Yeah, you keep saying that," Sam screamed back and Emma covered her ears and closed her eyes; she wanted this to stop. She wanted all of it to stop already. "But what's gonna happen if Emma can't complete the trial, Dean? Did you think it through? What if it's too much for her and it's gonna kill her?"

Emma didn't look up, but by the silence that followed, she could tell Sam had hit right under the belt with this one, but he still continued.

"What then, Dean? What if you have to choose between the girl you love and saving the world and your best friend? Can you make that choice? Will you be able to live with yourself knowing you doomed one of them?"

"Alright, stop!" Emma stood abruptly, coming between them, her nostrils flaring. "Listen to yourselves. It's not gonna be a choice, Sam. I'm not letting my sister stay a demon and I'm not letting Amara loose in the world, _inside_ Melody. I'm completing the trial. And I'm gonna survive the hell out of it, if only to give both of you hell for making me wear the pants in this whole war. Now pull yourselves together. You're embarrassing yourselves."

And with that, she turned on her heels and headed to the basement to wait for demon Melody to wake up.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Michael Malarkey – Scars~**

It was disconcerting. And creepy. And wrong. And Emma had to constantly remind herself this was Melody and that she was waking up, and that she wasn't gonna have to go through the same hell of having lost her sister again. No, this was fixable. She was gonna save her sister from herself. And then maybe the whole world while she was at it. Oh, well. There never really had been a quiet day for her around here.

Melody sat there, empty eyes staring at nothing, no spark in them whatsoever, and a huge hole between her eyes. The back of her blonde hair was painted with blood from where the bullet's exit wound. She was filthy and Emma refused to think about the dried blood, red and black, under her nails and all over her clothes.

She had to do this. There was no going back, no question about it, no time for second guessing. Third trial. Curing Mel. Then saving the world. Easy breezy.

Dean and Sam eventually joined her down in the basement silently and they sat there, no words filling the heavy silence until Emma decided to break it.

"Finally done pouting? You gonna man up now?"

Dean mumbled something under his breath, but Emma knew he was seeing eye to eye with her on this one.

"Well," Sam sighed. "It is what it is. Now all there's left is to fix it."

"Ain't that true," Emma muttered.

"So what now?" Dean asked. "I mean, curing Rapunzel is up next, I get that. But what about the Mark? I mean, take it from experience, that thing can fuck you up good even if you're not a demon."

Emma sighed. "Sam and I found a spell. We'll go all at once. I'll guide you to cast the spell right before I cure Mel. And hope for the best."

Dean was gonna say it didn't sound like a solid plan, but just then, they noticed the shift.

Melody's eyes weren't empty anymore. Instead, they filled with black smoke. Entirely. Like her entire eye socket was filled with void, dark as night. Then she closed her eyes and opened them wide again. Emma and the boys flinched.

Demon Melody was awake.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Then her eyes started traveling over them, bored and expressionless, emotionless, lifeless. She eyed the devil's trap and the chains around her wrists, also marked with devil's traps.

"Well," she spoke, and it fazed Emma how much she sounded like her sister, like the Mel she knew and loved, that she'd grown up with. Except she wasn't; she was a monster. "Ain't that a plot twist."

None of them spoke and Melody watched them like a cat eyeing her prey, searching for the most vulnerable victim. She stopped on Dean first.

"Well, pretty eyes," she smirked. "That took balls. I'm impressed. Pissed off, but impressed. Not many people can brag about getting to kill me twice. And I gotta say, this time around, the outcome is definitely an improvement."

Emma saw a muscle twitch in Dean's expression, but admirably, he kept a straight face. Seeing as her bullets shot blindly with him, Melody moved to her sister.

"What, you really think you can pull this off?" she sneered. "How many times, Emma? How many times are you gonna play the saint and throw away everything you have for the sake of some suicidal mission in the name of whatever greater good? Aren't you tired? You keep choosing _me_ over everything, over your boyfriend, over your happiness. Don't you get it? I don't need your saving. God, you're pathetic."

Emma stared at her. Straight into her eyes, without looking away. Was this her best card? Out of everything she could've chosen. This, she was unapologetic for. If it destroyed her, she was gonna pull her sister away from every edge.

Finally, Melody moved to Sam. Oh, he was waiting his turn. He was a 6'4'' giant made of muscles and yet, Emma had never seen him smaller.

"What's the matter, Sammy?" Melody's voice dropped and her eyes turned onyx black again. "Running out of ways to lose me?" Sam flinched and she smiled with immense satisfaction.

"That's enough," Emma stepped forward. "Guys. We're out of time and options. Let's get this over with."

 **Hey, guys. Sorry for being so late with the chapter, but finals got the best of me, as usual. The good news is, this was one of my favorite and most intense chapters of Make me whole again. The bad news is, next chapter is the last one before the epilogue. So our journey is really coming to an end this time.**

 **Kay, let me know what you think! Lots of love,**

 **xoxo**


	29. Take me back to the start

**CHAPTER 28 – TAKE ME BACK TO THE START**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Awolnation – Sail~**

Emma opened her notes and placed them on the table in front of the Winchester brothers and let out a loud sigh.

"This spell is the closest thing I could find to what we need. I've actually combined a removal spell for the Mark with a sealing spell. It's basically gonna remove the Mark from Melody's arm and use it as a sigil on the gates of hell."

"Right," Dean mumbled. "Except, we put the sigil where, exactly? Ain't like we have the actual gates of hell to waltz to and just tramp stamp them."

Emma glared at him before replying. "Yeah, I was getting there. Sam and I had the same problem. But it doesn't really have to be the actual gates of Hell. Apparently, it's more about the symbol."

"The symbol," Dean repeated. "Like what, we draw a stick figure with two horns and fire and lots of red around him on paper? And slap the Mark on it?"

Emma slapped the back of his head, annoyed. "Focus, will you? That's where we got stuck. What's the most symbolic thing for hell you can think of?"

Dean thought for a moment. Well, there were lots of clichés about it. Crossroads, hellhounds, Lucifer, every thought about hell ran through his mind at high speed and he was having trouble focusing on just one. The most symbolic thing for hell. Well, the loudest of 'em was Crowley, but that didn't…

His eyes widened and he turned to Sam and Emma.

"You want a symbol for hell?" he exclaimed. "What about its king?"

Sam frowned. "Crowley? I don't think Crowley looks particularly like a gate of hell."

"No, but think about it, Sammy," Dean slapped his shoulder. "However you wanna think about it, Crowley's the key, not the gate."

"Dean," Emma sighed. "That's kind of a long shot. Even if we do manage that, we don't know for sure it'll work. So what, we complete the trials, lock up hell, slap the Mark on Crowley, but instead of locking him up down there, we just gave the Darkness away as a Christmas present to the King of Hell."

Dean turned to her and caught her shoulder. "Emma. This can work. You cure Melody. Before the last blood dose, we summon Crowley, do the spell to get the Mark off Mel, slap it on him, exorcise him, and then it's all over. Or something along those lines."

Emma turned to Sam, biting her lip. "Sam?"

He just shrugged. "Something along those lines."

"Sam!" she scolded him.

"Alright, alright. Yeah, it could work. Sounds like our best shot yet."

Emma thought about it. Could work and the best shot yet were far from being reassuring. Not with her sister's life and everyone else's on the line. But after all, what else was there left to do?

"Alright. Best shot yet," she mumbled. "Sam and I already gathered most of our ingredients for the spells, according to the Book of the Damned. I guess all we need now are the blood of the one who'll cast the spell and the ingredients to summon Crowley. So? Who wants to cast the spell?"

The brothers exchanged a look. Dean figured Sam wanted to be by Mel's side for the worst of it, so he was about to step forward and volunteer.

"I'll do it."

But the voice wasn't Dean's. Instead, Sam stepped forward, averting his gaze and swallowing hard, a tormented look on his face.

"You don't have to, Sammy," he told his little brother. "It's okay. You can go be with Mel. I'm sure she needs you right now."

"No, she doesn't," Sam finally met his gaze and Dean almost took a step back at the intensity in them. "Demon Melody doesn't need me right now. And I definitely can't see her like this. I just… I can't. So I'll see her afterwards. When this is all over and my Mel's back."

The three of them fell silent. Dean wasn't sure what to say and it looked like Emma wanted to say something, but wasn't sure how. Eventually, she sighed.

"Alright," she said. "It's settled then. I'll go get started with the trial."

"Hey," Dean caught her wrist. "Will you be alright? Want me to come with you?"

She smiled at him and touched his cheek. "I think it'll be fine this time. I've had time to heal and I feel stronger that the first time around. I really think it'll work."

"That's good," he replied. "But I'm talking more about it being Melody and all that. I bet that's taking its toll on you."

"Dean, I'll be fine," she reassured him. "Actually, Sam, can I have a word?"

Sam looked up surprised, but nodded and followed her out of the library under Dean's concerned gaze. Emma stopped in the hallway and faced him with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Are you sure you don't wanna join me?" she asked straightforward and he frowned.

"Do you need me to?"

"I don't," she replied. "But you might."

Sam sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Em—"

"Sam, listen. I know you're scared. I don't wanna see Mel like this, either. And I don't want to hear the things she's saying. But she's my sister and I won't walk away from this, no matter how ugly it gets. Because when you love someone, you don't turn your back on the ugly stuff."

"You think this is what I'm doing?" he raised his voice slightly. "I'm not walking away from her, I'm not turning my back, I'm just—"

He trailed off, running his hand over his face, clearly troubled. Emma caught his elbow and squeezed it reassuringly.

"I'm not the one who needs convincing, Sam. But maybe you should think this through before making a decision. I'm just saying."

She turned on her heels, leaving him in the hallway to battle his own demons before deciding whether he could face the one he loved.

Emma walked inside the basement with the first syringe of blood in her hand. Melody didn't raise her head right away. For a few minutes, they just stood there in silence. Eventually, Melody's black eyes met Emma's and she stopped herself from taking a step backwards. She would not be afraid of her sister. However evil and dark she was, she was still Melody.

"What's the matter, sis?" Melody asked, but her voice sounded so different from how Emma knew it. Lower. More twisted. "Scared?"

Emma gulped. "No," she replied steadily. "I just want this over and done with so I can get my sister back."

Melody shrugged indifferently. "Yeah, about that. Sorry. Your sister's not at home currently. Might not be back for a while."

Emma pursed her lips and tensed her shoulders, feeling anger seeping through her. In a swift movement, she prompted herself in front of Melody and drove the needle straight into the sight of her neck, emptying the vial of blood in her system. Melody hissed at her.

"Snarl all you want," Emma whispered. "But we're doing this, Mel. We're not losing you again."

Melody's lips curled into a cruel smile. "That's the problem, sis. You already have."

Emma gulped and walked out of the basement, wishing this whole exchange hadn't affected her so much. She leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. Whoever that person in chains was, it wasn't her sister.

She returned an hour later with another vial. And then another hour later with a new vial. Each and every time, Melody snarled and hissed and cursed. Emma remembered the last demon she'd tried to cure. She remembered how, halfway through it, his humanity was peeping through the cracks. She remembered how there were traces of vulnerability winning over the demon. She didn't know whether it was about how powerful the Mark of Cain was or about how Melody was resisting it, but she was down to two more vials of blood and she still saw no change in Mel's behavior.

She walked inside the basement again, gripping the syringe tight. Melody shot her a wicked smile

"Lunch time already?" she growled and Emma gulped. "Yum. Weak ass human blood."

Emma waltzed over to her and emptied the vial in her throat. Melody let out a low groan.

"Come on, Melody," Emma whispered under her breath, more to herself than to Mel. "Get your shit together. Come back to us. Stop playing games."

Melody pulled at her chains violently and Emma flinched at the sudden move. Mel's eyes went back to onyx black and she bared her teeth in a snarl.

"You think this is a motherfucking game, Emma? Think again. And look at me. Look. At. Me. Do I look like the weak ass Melody you're looking for right now? She's not coming back. At all. Poke me with your needles all you want. But you're the one who needs to get her shit together. I'm here to stay, baby."

Her forehead was drenched in sweat and she was clenching her fists and she was shaking, so maybe the blood did have some effect on her. But Emma couldn't look away from those black eyes. Unfaltering. Dark as night. And Melody was enjoying it. She wanted to stay a demon. She didn't want to come back. Whatever wounds Amara was poking and taking advantage of to keep Melody so dark, they must've run pretty deep.

She turned on her heels and walked out. She couldn't do this alone. If Melody didn't want to come back for her, then she needed someone who could convince Melody to allow herself to be saved.

She needed Sam.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Novo Amor & Ed Tullett – Alps~**

Melody opened her eyelids slowly, drips of sweat falling down her temples. She was hot and it felt like her insides were burning, scorching, set ablaze. It was that goddamn human blood. She hissed and struggled, as if hoping that, by some miracle, her shackles would finally give in and break. She couldn't, for the life of her, come up with a way to get out of this. She didn't wanna go back to poor little human pathetic Melody.

She groaned out loud, feeling the rage bubble up in her chest with nowhere to go. She was fine like this. There was no guilt. There was no pain. There were no consequences. There was just murder and freedom. Why couldn't she just have that? Why did they want to force her go back to the sad human who felt sorry for herself? She really didn't want to go back to hurting, to tears, to helplessness.

She finally looked up, panting, just to notice Sam a few feet away from her, looking almost sheepish. He held an empty vial in his hand that Melody eyed with disgust. He followed her gaze and cleared his throat before speaking.

"Emma was here just a while ago. This was the second to last vial. One more and it's done. She's upstairs with Dean working on the spell to trap Amara in hell."

He cleared his throat again and Melody watched him silently. He was so different from the Sam she'd left at home before leaving for Purgatory. His shoulders were tense, scrunched, he hadn't shaved in way too many days and his eyes were red and puffy, like he hadn't slept in a while. He looked small. He looked vulnerable. Breakable. Melody looked at him and looked inside her for whatever it had been she'd felt for him. Looking for whatever the sight of him was supposed to awaken in her. She came down empty. There was nothing there but dust and cobwebs and cold bones.

She shot him a cold, wicked smile.

"Finally mustered the courage to come down here?" she asked in a low voice. "I was wondering how long it was gonna take you."

"I wasn't gonna," he admitted.

"So why did you?" Mel asked.

Sam fell silent for a few minutes. He refused to meet her gaze and he kept playing absent-mindedly with the syringe. "I wasn't gonna," he repeated. "I was gonna wait until all this was over. I wasn't gonna alter the memory of my Melody with the image of you."

"Sorry to break it to you, but I'm still Melody," she tilted her head. "Just upgraded."

"No," he was quick to argue. "You're not Melody. You're not her. And it was weak of me to act like I'm only supposed to love and accept the parts of you I'm okay with. I can't just wait until the storm's over and get to enjoy the rainbow, can I? When I fell in love with you, Melody, I fell in love with you whole, storms and all."

Melody pulled at her chains, pursing her lips and breathing heavily. Dust and cobwebs and cold bones, right?

"Don't say stuff like this to me," she hissed at him and, for the first time, Sam raised his gaze and met her eyes. Hazel to black. Demon smoke to human tears. Melody kept pulling at the shackles, her fingers shaking. Fucking human blood. Fucking emotions surfacing when she wanted them dead and buried.

Sam broke into the beginning of a sad smile, blinking against tears and gripping the syringe so tight until it broke in his palm, cutting through skin. Blood was dripping from his hand to the floor, but he didn't seem to notice.

"I see," he whispered. "So Emma was right."

He took a step forward. Melody snarled at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"She said," he took a deep breath, "that she doesn't think it's gonna work. The cure. That you're resisting it."

She barked an angry laugh. "Damn right I am."

"They all are," Sam replied. "Dean did, too. Crowley did, too. But I see now that it's different with you. You don't want to be human again because you're _afraid_ to go back to that. You're afraid to face the consequences of what you've done."

He turned her palm up so that the mark of Jace's wings was in plain sight. Melody didn't look at it, but she felt it burning her skin. Instead, she kept staring blankly over Sam's shoulder.

"You don't know a damn thing," she whispered in a low, threatening voice.

"Maybe I don't," he braced both arms against the armrests of her chair, watching her struggle to keep a straight face and play unaffected. "But I know my Melody's still in there. And you're not letting her come out."

"Just get this over with," Melody spat in his face. "Get me that stupid last vial. End it already. Just stop bothering me with all this gagging crap. Your Melody's gone. And I feel _nothing._ "

He kept his eyes glued to hers. "No," he spoke steadily. "No, I won't take my chances. I can't risk that this doesn't work and that we lose both you and Emma for good."

She forced her lips to curl into a cruel smile. "And what are you gonna do about that?"

He leaned in closer and closer and maybe Mel's heart would've skipped a beat if the Mark on her arm hadn't urged her nails to dig into his chest until she carved his own heart out. His nose traveled down her cheek and she just kept staring blankly ahead, not moving a muscle.

"I'll make you remember," he whispered near her ear and she couldn't hold back a shiver. "I'll show you that you have something to come back to."

"I don't," she hissed and he touched her hair so lightly it almost hurt.

"You do. Even if you forgot. Even if you don't wanna remember. Even if you don't think something other than pain and death could possibly wait for us ahead on the road. I'll show you."

He stepped back a little and took his time running his fingertips across her fingers, then her knuckles, then caressing her wrists and running his fingers up and down her arms. Melody followed the trace of his fingertips with her eyes, her eyes empty. Her soul was darkened and she breathed smoke clouds now, but her body remembered him. And it responded to his touch.

"Remember that first day?" he whispered without meeting her eyes, watching his own fingers meet her skin.

Melody forced her voice to stay steady as she asked, "Is that your move? Cause it's pretty lame."

He ignored her. "You banished those angels. You stole Dean's keys." He laughed to himself, more like a breath he felt like letting loose, afraid it might burn his insides. "I think I got every possible signal that I wasn't gonna survive the hurricane that was Melody Bennett. You were restless, you were full of life and of hope and looking at you, I felt like I could find a part of me that I thought was long gone, too. But then you fell asleep on my shoulder in Dean's car."

Melody clenched her fists. She didn't wanna hear. She didn't wanna hear anymore. She wanted out.

"I don't think you know what it's like to watch you sleep," he looked up, blinking back tears. "Every second of every day with you is a roller coaster, a marathon, an endless chase of emotions. And you'll never understand how it felt, for the first time, to have all that put under sleep. It took me aback. Do you remember what happened next?"

She gritted her teeth, practically hyperventilating by now. Did she remember?

 _You were right. I could take you out._

Yeah. She remembered. Though she wished she could forget everything and stab them all in the face for being reminders of the weak ass human she couldn't go back to.

"Why don't you let me out and we can recreate the scene?" she barked at him, but he simply ignored her and moved from her arms to her hair.

"Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if you and Emma had gotten away that day. My life was never the same once you came into it."

"That's so much bullshit," she tried to argue, but he wouldn't have it. He knew. He knew he was getting to her. That was his entire plan.

"But you stayed. And remember the first time we went out for drinks, the four of us? Remember how you knocked that guy out?"

Yeah. She remembered his face as he came out of the bathroom and extended his arms, an incredulous look on his face. She remembered the warmth inside her body as she earned that look from respect from him. Because for some reason, she cared, even back then, what Sam thought of her.

" _I left you alone for, like, two minutes."_

" _Told you I can take care of myself."_

Her whole body was shaking. "Stop," she whispered under her breath, trying to avert her face from his touch, but he was so gentle, so tentative, his fingertips still kept brushing against her cheek and the smoke clouds started trembling under the threat of some sunshine.

"Remember how I held you the first time you cried? The first time I realized you weren't unbreakable. That you could be vulnerable and that I could get to you. I think that was the scariest moment in our relationship. Realizing that you could be broken. And I tend to break everything I touch."

" _If I say I'm okay, will you leave me alone?"_

" _You can try to mean it and I can promise I will."_

" _I'm not. But it doesn't matter. Now can you please leave me be?"_

" _Of course it matters."_

A tiny part of herself wanted to lean against him and tell him none of this was his fault. That it wasn't his fault she was broken. That he'd been that anchor he'd told her about so long ago. But then the Darkness came flooding and swept it all away. And that tiny part of herself tried to feel those emotions once again. But she still came down empty. She felt nothing.

"Do you remember all this, Melody?" Sam finally met her face, cupping her cheek in her palm. "Do you feel it? Do you understand now how much I need you to come back to me?"

 _Yes,_ a muffled ghost of Melody wanted to answer. She closed her eyes and scrunched her face, trying to turn away from his touch.

"Go to hell," she whispered and a small tear rolled down his cheek and then another met it under his chin. He wiped them away quickly.

"Oh, I'm already there," he answered. "Have been for the past few weeks. Now more than ever." He tried to smile, but it came as a grimace. "But it's okay. We weren't that close back then. We went on that hunt and everything got confusing. Maybe we were both a little skeptical to let anyone in. Or to believe that anyone was willing to come in, right?"

"Go to hell," she repeated.

He let out a breathless chuckle. "Remember when I first gave you Samantha? How happy you were? How I helped you fix it and taught you to ride it?"

" _You're anything but a lost cause."_

" _You're oily."_

" _This is all we have, Sam. This, right now. Moments. Bits to remind us we're still alive. I live for these little things."_

She remembered. And she remembered what Sam didn't even know. She remembered what Emma had told her.

" _Melody, you can't claim that there's nothing going on here. Now when I see the way your aura brightens when he enters the room or the way his goes from light purple to soft pink whenever he steals glances at you when you're not looking."_

She'd told herself this so many times before. She was sure that Sam in her path had been no coincidence. She and Sam, Dean and Emma, they were halves of the same wholes. Sam had made her whole as she'd done him. She'd never believed in soulmates, but the privilege of loving him surely felt like it.

 _Nothing,_ she kept repeating. _I feel nothing. I'm empty. Dust and cobwebs and cold bones. I'm empty. All there's left is blood thirsts and the desire to kill. I'm empty._ But it suddenly felt like a lie.

"Go to hell," she told him again and he backed away, standing up.

"The night when Emma and Cas went for Nemesis," he whispered and Melody started pulling at her chains even worse; because she knew where he was going with this. "When you took off on your bike and crashed it. The first of many times when I've almost lost you. Maybe that was the training for all the times that were to come later."

She was shaking from every joint. She was breathing heavily and she was drenched in sweat. She called on the smoke clouds again. She felt them gathering in her peripheral vision. But they never did manage to cover that stubborn ray of sunshine seeping through.

His back was on her and she watched him pick up a towel from a nearby table, then she came back with it and kneeled before her. She urged them not to, but the memories still came flooding back.

"Don't," she tried to hiss at him, but it came as just a whisper and Sam's movement still didn't stop.

" _I could've picked up your dead body from that side of the road. Did it ever cross your mind how it would've made me feel?"_

" _Out of all the people in the world, you're the one I can't stand being around right now the most."_

" _How's that for a mixed signal?"_

His hands moved the same as they had that night. He started running the towel gently through her blonde locks, wiping away the mud and the dry blood from their ends. Back then, she'd closed her eyes and leaned into the touch. Now, she was afraid to close her eyes and face those memories. When Sam was done with her hair, he focused on softly running the towel across her forehead, her temples, her cheekbones and her chin, then he followed the route down to her neck, her arms and slowly down to each finger.

"Please, stop," she whispered again, but he didn't. Instead, he raised his head, tears dancing in his eyes and as he raised his hand to cup her chin, she noticed he was shaking.

"You remember all that?"

"Stop," she repeated. "Please, stop."

"Do you?" he insisted.

"I remember," she choked. "I remember. But I don't want to. Please, let me forget. Let me go."

He rested his forehead against hers and breathed her in like he was suffocating.

"Can't," he whispered so low she barely heard him. "I let you go too many times. Never again."

His hand went to the nape of her neck and she shivered. He was inches away, but she could taste him on the tip of her tongue already, smelling his all too familiar scent and feeling his skin lightly against hers.

"Well," he closed his eyes. "No mixed signals this time, right?"

And before she could object, he brushed his lips so softly against hers that she held her breath. It wasn't even a real kiss. Just the promise of one. Had her hands been free, she wasn't sure whether she would've given in to the instincts of killing him or kissing him back just like she had that night. Yes. Of course she remembered. She remembered him. She remembered the two of them together. Sam Winchester had fallen out of her wildest dreams. Sam Winchester was her home.

 _I feel nothing. I'm empty. Dust and cobwebs and cold bones._

 _And Sam. I remember. Sam Winchester is my home._

He pulled away and stood up and she took in a shaky breath. Her cheeks were wet. She didn't know whether they were her tears or Sam's. He ran a hand over his face and wiped away his tears then, without another word, he turned around and walked out the door.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Fall Out Boy – Just one yesterday~**

Sam found Emma outside the door, crunched against the wall, resting her forehead on her knees. When she looked up, he saw she was crying.

"You heard all that?" he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Most of it," she admitted. "Sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was coming down to check on you guys."

"It's okay. Are you alright, though? Can you go through with it this time?"

"Yeah," Emma replied. "Yeah, I should be fine. I think my grace has had time to heal me." She paused, afraid to voice the question just yet. "Do you think it's gonna work?" Sam stayed silent and, for a moment, Emma thought he hadn't heard her, so she went on. "Because like I said, if she's clinging to the Darkness and to being a demon, the cure won't—"

"It'll work," Sam cut her off, sounding like he was clinging to a hope rather than facts; but somehow, Emma believed him. "It'll work. It has, too. Go give her the last vial, Em. Dean and I will take care of the spell. And hope for the best."

Emma sighed and stood up. "Hope for the best."

Sam patted her on the shoulder and walked away and Emma took a deep breath before walking inside the basement. She expected to find Mel the same as she'd left her, if only a little more disoriented and more susceptible to influence. What she hadn't expected was this sight. Melody was trembling and she looked seriously shaken. Her face was wet with tears, but she wasn't crying now.

Emma gasped a little and her sister looked up. She flinched when Melody's eyes fell on her. The demon smoke was there, but there were cracks in it where you could see the emerald green of her irises. Whatever Sam had told her…

"Just get it over with," she whispered, her voice croaked and lifeless.

Emma stepped forward and gripped the syringe tight. It was time.

Sam walked inside the library and found Dean with all kinds of supernatural ingredients for the spells. It was time. Dean looked up and, if he saw how disheveled Sam was after the moment with Melody, he didn't mention it.

"So?" Dean asked. "You wanna do this or should I?"

"I'll do it," Sam cleared his throat. "Emma's downstairs, waiting for our signal to give Melody the last dose."

"Think it's gonna work?" Dean asked and Sam gulped before replying. And his answer wasn't a fact, it was more like the glimmer of a hope he didn't know whether to dare hold on to.

"It has to."

Dean stared at him for a few seconds, then dropped it. "Alright. So how are we doing this?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "First we summon Crowley. Then I cast the spell to transfer the Mark. Then Emma gives Mel the blood to complete the trial and close the gates and we exorcise Crowley behind those for good."

"Alright," Dean repeated. "Let's do this."

Emma held the syringe in her palm and eyed Melody. It had been quite the shift with Sam here. Melody's snarl was gone. She refused to meet her eyes. She didn't care about keeping her composure anymore. The demon was losing to the human. Sam's love and their memories together had done more than purified human blood could.

"How long now?" Emma flinched at hearing her sister's voice. So different. So vulnerable. So human.

She gulped before replying. "Any minute now."

Melody didn't answer right away. She fell silent for a few seconds and Emma could swear she was holding her breath. Eventually, she looked up and Emma let out a gasp when she saw the smoke in her eyes struggle to flood her irises and failing, diluted by a few tears.

"Good," Mel surprised both of them by saying. "I'm getting tired."

Sam lit the candles and prepared the bowl with the ingredients. He put the bowl for the spell away and made sure it was out of sight, before cutting his hand and holding it up, letting his blood pour over the mixture. Then he said the incantation and lit a match over it and from between the flames, the King of Hell looked back at him.

"Moose," his thick British accent greeted them. "Seeing as we're at war, I hope this is a truce meeting."

Sam grinned at him and Crowley's eyes fell on the devil's trap around him and he sighed dramatically.

"My, my. Guess not."

"Emma?"

Emma looked up from her watch, wishing the boys would just hurry up. The hour was almost up. She met Melody's foggy eyes.

"Yeah?"

Melody swallowed hard before speaking, the smoke clouds drawing patterns inside her eyes, but managing to take control over them.

"I killed Jace." A pause. Emma didn't speak. "And I was gonna kill Dean. With no remorse. And you. And Sam."

Still no response. Emma wasn't even sure what to say, because she had no idea what Melody wanted to hear. Was she looking for forgiveness? As if. As if there was any doubt about that. The Bennetts and the Winchesters had an absurd history with absurd forgiveness. Was she looking for blame? She wasn't gonna find it here.

"Is it gonna hurt?"

Emma frowned at her sister's question. "What? The cure? I don't think so, no. It'll only be like coming back home. To your old self."

"Not that," Mel was quick to add. "Right now, I feel nothing. But I feel the weight of what I'm gonna feel when this is over. So is it gonna hurt? All that explosion of feelings?"

Emma considered and blinked back the tears. She couldn't lie to her. "Probably, yeah."

Melody was silent for a few seconds. Some more traces of the black smoke faded away. "Thought so, too."

"Is there a certain purpose for this gathering?" Crowley asked. "I'm a busy man."

Sam gritted his teeth and pulled out the bowl for the spell. He moved his still bleeding hand over it, watching as Crowley's lips pursed and his eyes widened.

"Moose," he growled. "Whatever you're about to do… Don't."

"Persuasive," Dean mumbled from behind Sam.

"You're toying with powerful forces, boys," Crowley raged. "Dark magic you don't understand."

"Save it," Sam snarled. "You can't talk your way around this one. You're going down for good."

"Samuel, wait!" he yelled again, but it was too late. Sam's blood was already dripping in the bowl and he was already reciting the incantation.

Crowley screamed. Lights flickered. The whole bunker rambled with the power of the spell. And a few seconds later, the flesh on the King of Hell's arm started searing with the Mark of Cain.

Melody screamed. Emma flinched and hurried to her side, just to notice that the Mark of Cain was glowing, burning. Well. Guess that was her signal. It was time.

Mel's fingernails dug into Emma's arm and she looked down at her sister. She was scared. And Emma could understand that. She wouldn't have wanted to face all those feelings, either. So she took her hand and squeezed it tight as she drove the needle in her neck and emptied the vial.

Melody let out a scream and Emma held her hand through it all. Then as she panted afterwards, she looked up at her sister. With irises as emerald green as Emma remembered them.

Melody Bennett was back.

Crowley was panting. He looked from the Mark of Cain to the Winchesters and back at the Mark again.

"What have you done?" he breathed, but the boys just ignored him.

Sam took a cloth and wrapped it around his bleeding hand.

"It's over, Crowley. Emma should lock up the gates any minute now. You lost."

Crowley growled at him. "Like bloody hell I did. You think this is over?" He raised his voice. "I'm the bloody King of Hell. All you've done is make me more powerful than ever. I will. End. You."

"Like hell you will."

Crowley and the boys turned around to whom the voice belonged. And there, with Emma behind her, stood Melody. Still covered in mud and blood. But her arm bared of the Mark. And her eyes green instead of black. Sam almost dropped to his knees there. It had worked. Melody was back. He wanted to run to her and kiss her and hold her and never let her go, but her eyes were fixated on Crowley, pure rage in them. But human rage.

"Told you this is war," she took a few steps towards Crowley. "And I'm winning. We may destroy ourselves in the process, Crowley, but we always win. You and dear old Amara have fun in hell for the rest of eternity." She turned and nodded at Sam and he tried to regain his composure. Reunions later. Melody was right. They still had a war to win.

He opened his mouth and recited the words in Latin. Crowley was yelling at him, throwing threats, promises of death rolling of his tongue. But Sam's eyes traveled from Melody to Dean and Emma and back at Melody.

 _We may destroy ourselves in the process, but we always win._

Wasn't that right. At the cost of losing themselves, they always saved the world. But at least they were together. A little broken, a little rusty, a little wrinkled, but they were together. The four of them. Maybe the broken pieces of the four of them could make a whole.

Crowley's mouth opened and red smoke came out of it as Sam spoke the last words. Then in the blink of an eye, it was over. The red smoke was gone. Burning signs on the floor. Crowley's dead vessel.

Sam breathed out loudly and he turned to his brother and the girls. They all held the same incredulous look on their faces. It was over. The gates were closed. Crowley with Amara under his skin was down there with no way to come back up here. They had won.

They looked at each other and they burst into laughter at the same time. They didn't know whose arms found whose. But the four of them collapsed together on the floor, drowning in the sweet taste of victory and maybe in the realization they were a little skeptical to accept just yet that they were together, alive and human.

And the world could be on the verge of ending again tomorrow. But they had saved it today. Four broken pieces of a whole.

 **IT'S OVER. MY BABY. Well, okay, maybe not just yet.**

 **But this was the last chapter, y'all. I'm not gonna get emotional just yet. Nope. I'll just wait until after the epilogue. Which is gonna have lots of feels. Obviously. Soon.**

 **Tell me what you think!**

 **Lots of love,**

 **xoxo**


	30. Epilogue: Night of the hunter

**EPILOGUE: NIGHT OF THE HUNTER**

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Fink – Looking too closely~**

It's morning. The bunker is quiet. The walls are covered in sigils and wards. The stairs are dusty. A long table rests in the middle of the library, and four chairs look more used than the rest of them. Bookshelves full of books stand tall and some books found their way to the table, opened at random pages and with messily scribbled notes around them. In the middle of the library, a burnt rug and an already faded devil's trap. Bowls with all sort of herbs scattered around like no one had bothered to pick them up after they were done with them. Some blood here and there. Stories.

A kitchen and a fridge full of beer and pie and junk food. Dishes long overdue to wash up. Some clothes left behind, a leather jacket, flannel shirts. Dead silence. Long hallways and closed doors. Long hallways that lead to four ends. A martyr bearing an angelic power she'd never asked for. A man who kept trying to look for ways to redeem himself for all the pain he'd caused. A broken spirit who hoped she could find the way back to herself. And the one who was willing to go to any lengths to never lose the one he loved again.

The sun rose over the bunker. Usually, at this time, it came to life with rustles and footsteps and morning kisses and, if the day was good enough, maybe some jokes thrown over a pot of coffee. But today, long hallways led to two bedrooms. Two beds. Four silhouettes. A dog at the foot of one bed. Still asleep, cause they had earned it. The world could go to hell for a change.

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Shinedown – I'll follow you~**

Emma was the first who cracked her eyes open. She blinked a few times and stretched. Then she turned her head to the right, and there he was.

Dean Winchester looked like a Greek God no matter how you put in, but sleeping… She wished she could've painted or sculpted if only to be able to capture him like this, his eyes closed, lips parted slightly, her name on the tip of his tongue. She couldn't even begin to describe the feeling of hearing him mutter 'Emma' in one breath in his sleep. To know she occupied his thoughts even in his dreams, it made her heart grow so much she worried it was gonna burst out of her chest.

"You're being creepy again," his deep voice made the bed vibrate and Emma flinched. She smacked his arm playfully.

"Shut up. You're only pretending to be asleep because you love it when I stare."

His arm found her waist and his fingers curled gently around it, under the hem of her shirt. "It's okay, I stare, too, when I wake up and you're still asleep. We can be creepy together."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Relationship goals."

He chuckled. "C'mere, baby."

Dean pulled her closer and brushed his lips gently over hers. Emma allowed herself to lose herself in the feeling of his lips barely hovering above hers, teasingly, like they had the rest of their lives to finish that kiss. And maybe they didn't. But to pretend like they did was a privilege they could allow themselves for now. Eventually, it was Emma who let out a breathless gasp and grabbed his bare shoulders and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss and making him gasp a little in surprise, too. Dean enjoyed this rough side of her. Emma was usually so composed, to well kept-together, so soft and cute and cuddly. It drove him to the edge of madness when she lost control like that and gave in to instincts.

"Oh, wow," he whispered when they broke the kiss. "Is it my birthday?"

"Might as well be," she dug her fingers into his hair. "You know what, Dean?"

"What?"

"We survived," she smiled widely. "We made it. We saved the world."

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "I don't have the heart to tell you this, short stuff, but—"

"But you're gonna tell me anyway," she rolled her eyes playfully.

"But Sammy and I have been here, done that. Even saving the world loses its charm after the first few times."

She sat up and Dean took her in. She was wearing his T-shirt, a habit she'd taken up a while ago, but he wasn't complaining. His male pride was off charts. Her face was flushed with giddiness and strands of hair from her ponytail came loose. He looked back on the Dean Winchester from before meeting Emma. He looked back on the girls he used to bring home. Short skirts, long legs, big package right where they needed it, the whole hooker deal, basically. And faces painted with make up like they were aiming to be the next Sistine Chapel – yeah, Emma had shoved some history lessons up his throat in Europe, in between Book of the Damned searches. _I mean, take your girl to the swimming pool on the first date, am I right?_ he thought. But seeing her right now… Freshly woken up, bare knees brushing against his side, puffy sleepy eyes and ruffled hair, she looked more gorgeous than any women he'd ever laid eyes upon. It was just who she was. And he loved her more than anything in the world.

"No, silly," she rested her hand on his knee. " _We_ survived. We're a little wrinkled, a little ruffled. And with all we've been through, it's gonna be hell to make things go back to the way they were. We may never get to. But we survived. All four of us. We live to see another day and to make amends. I get more time to help my sister heal. And to nerd out with Sam. And to love you."

Dean watched her for a few moments. Well.

"Yeah, short stuff," he played with some loose strands of her hair. "Truth be told. This might be the first time I have something to be grateful for. Something to come back to. It's the first time surviving doesn't feel like a burden."

Emma smiled and lied down, resting her head in the crook of his neck and his arms went around her instantly. "We'll be fine, won't we?"

He didn't answer right away. But when he did, his voice came out lighter than she'd expected it to.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But even if we won't. We'll find a way through it. We always do."

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Tom Odell – Another love~**

When Sam woke up, Melody was already gone. He rolled in bed and looked around the room, frowning. Her clothes were gone, as well as her shoes and her jacket. Huh. This was weird. He checked the clock on the nightstand and saw it was only little past 8 a.m. Hadn't they decided to sleep in today? After yesterday's events and after the weeks she'd been having, Mel was entitled to a few extra hours of sleep.

He got up and put on some clothes, then walked out of the room.

"Melody!" he called, but there was no answer. He looked for her in the library and in the kitchen, but she was nowhere to be found. He went to the garage and Samantha was there, so she couldn't have left the bunker. He remembered she'd taken her jacket, so she could only be nearby.

He put on his shoes and walked out of the bunker. As suspected, Melody was sitting on the grass in front of the bunker, her legs crossed, a beer in her hand and Charlie curled up by her side. Of course. As much as Emma and Sam loved that dog, ever since he'd felt Melody's struggle and uneasiness, he rarely left her side. Maybe he just knew she needed to not be alone.

"Hey," Sam said and Mel's head flew up, a small smile blossoming on her face at his sight.

"Hey, yourself."

Sam sat by her side. "I woke up and you were gone. What happened to sleeping in?"

"Yeah, I just couldn't sleep," she sighed and let her eyes wander across the distance. Sam cleared his throat.

"Bad dreams?"

Melody pondered for a few seconds before replying. "No, actually. I mean, yeah, a few, but not as many as I'd expected."

Sam nudged her playfully with his shoulder. "Could it be that you're learning to forgive yourself?"

Melody's head turned to him and she offered a sad smile that didn't reach her eyes. Then she turned away again and Sam caught sight of her rubbing her wrist. The one with the mark of Jace's wings on it.

"Hey," he spoke softly. "About Jace. It wasn't—"

Mel groaned. "Don't tell me it wasn't my fault."

"It wasn't," Sam was quick to reassure her.

"I know that. I don't blame myself for that. Just like I don't blame Dean for what he did to me, and I think that's what helped me understand it. I wasn't me. And I know it wasn't my fault. It was Amara's. She's the one who killed Jace, using my anger and my hands as a tool."

She took in a shaky breath and Sam read between the lines. "But?"

She smiled sideways at him. He just knew her too well for both their sakes, didn't he? He just had to see through her.

"But he's still dead. I don't blame myself for how it happened, but it still happened because of me. I dragged him into this. His only fault was being in love with me. And this," she touched the mark absent-mindedly, "this is a reminder of that. I'll just have to live with knowing Jace had his heart out in the open, so full of love to offer, and I was unworthy of it."

Sam stayed silent, feeling as if it wasn't his place to intrude. His heart clenched a little at the mention of Jace being in love with Melody, but it wasn't like it was breaking news. Anyone could have told. And then again, who could've blamed him? How could anyone in their right mind not love Melody?

Mel sighed and Sam saw a couple of tears dance in the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away and smiled. "And in the end, turns out I really miss the motherfucker."

 _I care about you, too, blondie. A lot._

 _You're not like most girls, are you?_

 _I'm right here and in love with you._

Sam caught her hand, his big calloused fingers brushing against the mark. "Well," he whispered softly. "It is what it is."

Mel smiled at him and a tear rolled off her cheek before she could catch it.

"It is what it is."

 **~SOUNDTRACK: Thirty Seconds To Mars – Night of the hunter (VEVO Presents)~**

The door to the bunker opened. Two sets of feet and a dirty dog walked in. Two seats were taken in the library and the smell of fresh brewed coffee made it all feel like home. A real home.

Maybe the Men of Letters bunker wasn't much. Books. Long hallways. Cold walls. Wards. A burnt rug and blood stains. But home is never about the place itself. It's about the fresh brewed coffee. About the dirty dog wiggling his tail. About sandwiches that weren't even that good. About the person warming your bed. About the ones groaning and moaning with sleepy eyes around the table. About the privilege of a safe haven you can come back to.

"Oh, goodie, coffee," Melody sat down and poured herself an obnoxiously large mug. Emma and Dean stared at her with concern written all her face and she narrowed her eyes at them. "What?"

"Nothing," Emma pursed her lips. "You just seem… cheery?"

Mel rolled her eyes. "Is this related to the fact that I was a demon less than 24 hours ago?"

"Slightly," Sam said at the time that Dean said, "Might be."

"So you're okay?" Emma asked, reaching for Mel's hand and stopping midway when she realized she was gonna touch the mark of Jace's wings. She wasn't sure how Melody felt about that right now. Mel didn't miss the movement, though, and she started absent-mindedly rubbing it.

"Yeah," she reassured them all. "A bit shaken. Might deal with some serious PTSD, but I'm good. I'm done feeling sorry for myself. I mean, we survived, guys. We made it alive this once, too. And I don't know what's gonna happen tomorrow, but for now, I have today with y'all, so that's worth something."

Emma and Dean exchanged a glance, because Emma had told him the exact same thing only minutes before. And it was true. If only for one last breakfast together, it had all been worth it. All the pain, all the suffering, all of the struggles, none of it had been in vain, if only for each day they got to spend together.

"This is all gonna be a bitch to recover from," Dean commented, sipping on his coffee.

"They all are," Sam retorted, smiling and rubbing Mel's shoulders. "And we always do."

"True," Dean smirked and turned to look at Emma, winking at her, enjoying the way he could still make her blush.

"So what now?" Mel asked. "I mean, I don't know about you, guys, but chilling out and getting all that rest crap sounds boring to me."

Sam rolled his eyes at her. "Can't take the hunting out of the hunter, I guess," he mumbled under his breath, and Mel elbowed him in the ribs, making Charlie let out a soft bark of concern.

"We always see eye to eye, don't we, Rapunzel?" Dean smirked at her and opened his laptop, turning it to her and Sam. "I was just telling Emma when you came in. I was scrolling through the news and I might have found us a case. Four bodies drained of blood. Sounds like a pretty chill stake-out to me. I say we get our rest today and check it out tomorrow. Everybody in? Short stuff? Sammy? Rapunzel?"

"Hell yeah," Mel was the first to nod approvingly. "There's only so much rest a hunter can get."

Sam sighed behind her. "Fair point. And it does sound pretty easy. I say we give it a shot."

"Em?" Dean turned to Emma and she rolled her eyes.

"It's not like I can just step away from the drama with you guys going head first. Besides, with the four of us coming, I almost feel bad for those poor vampires."

Dean and Mel high-fived and even Sam chuckled a little. It was odd. There had been some dark few weeks and they still weren't sure whether the light at the end of the tunnel wasn't just their eyes playing tricks on them. It wasn't over. It was never over for them. Today, there were vampires. Tomorrow, maybe, there would be another fatal threat hanging above the world. But looking around at each other, they were fine with it. They were okay with not being okay, because just like yesterday, after banishing the Darkness, they realized that when you're in pieces, it takes all the other pieces to make a whole.

It wasn't over. But so long as they were together, they'd keep kicking.

"Well," Sam sat down and pulled the laptop to him to start his research. "We've got work to do."

 **BEWARE. FEELS.**

 **Okay so, it's officially over, guys. I can't begin to tell you how much writing this has meant to me. The four of them, they're my babies and I feel like I have constantly grown alongside with them. I've been to hell and back with them, I've cried and I've laughed and, truth be told, now that I've finished it, I'm just gonna go back and read it all from the top. Because it didn't feel like a story that I sat down to write, or like words being laid down on paper. Dean and Sam as already well-shaped characters and Melody and Emma as my own, they wrote themselves. I went where the story took me and for all the fellow writers out there, you know what I'm talking about. You know a story's a part of you when you're no longer in control of where it goes.**

 **Anyway. We're done here. That's a wrap on the Winchesters and the Bennetts. And what a journey it's been.**

 **I wanna hear it all, y'all. Don't hold back. Bring out the questions and the opinions, bring it all out. Favorite scenes, favorite lines, favorite character, favorite soundtrack song? I'm open to it all.**

 **Thank you, guys. It's been an honor to have my story read by you all. Lots of love,**

 **xoxo**


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